The Everydays of P&K

dilemma

2011-10-14T17:17:00.002-04:00

so i know ive been incredibly lame with posting and the truth is ive simply adjusted my expectations of myself and now that i expect to never post, im feeling much much less like a failure. this is mostly for me and about me so im trying super hard to not feel guilty about dropping the blog ball. i actually do write randomly and then decide not to post it for fear of being a little too over exposed...ie, when i go off on a tangent about a 'hypothetical' situation that isnt so 'hypothetical' and even the biggest moron with an iq of a stoned sheep could connect the dots and realize in an instant i was in fact referring to an incident involving them...so, i vent, feel better and another month slips with nothing im able to share, with you that is. however, yesterday was so super fun and i just feel like its worth mentioning.

so im about a week out from having our third baby. crazy. on many many levels. the thing with me and pregnancy is i am wholly consumed with gratitude and wholly consumed with misery...i would not have believed the two could possibly coexist if i wasnt currently hanging out with both of them. in fact, i think, i may have even tried to give someone the solution to their supposed 'misery' years ago (prior to my preggo days) as trying to simply maintain a level of gratitude that doesnt allow for any misery...i was SO incredibly wise at 22. but, here i am on round three of baby growing and i couldnt be anymore thankful to have this sweet bundle of goodness coming our way in a week and couldnt be anymore ready to stop puking and feeling like total shiat most of the time.

my first two rounds in preggieville had me poppin the zofran (anti naseau tabs) for all 40 weeks and puking most days to include the morning of both inductions. this baby, who briefly achieved fcs (favored child status) gave me a much needed, much welcomed surprise when at 20 weeks, i all but quit throwing up! of course there was the occasional out of nowhere puke, but by and large, i was feeling pretty flippin okay. but then came the eye infection and return of the puke that landed me in the er and caused bleeding out my lower lid every time i threw up...i was incredibly hot, im just sayin. this was followed by this weeks first ever adult ear infection/sinus infection combo that had me crying like a three year old while holding my ear...wish i was kidding. good times.

the great news is there is an antibiotic i am taking for said sinus/ear infection...it just causes vomiting. fan freakin tab u lous. which brings me to yesterday....

yesterday i was finally feeling good enough to venture out and with baby arriving and my time of not lugging newborn with me everywhere i go running short, i headed out for some retail therapy. mainly, the makings for sugar cookies and some butt paste for baby, but whatevs, i was alone and on a mission. and hungry. i vaguely remembered someone sharing with me that mexican food causes labor and while im highly doubtful of any and all tidbits of knowledge that dont make sense, i figured it was worth a try, it sounded good and since i am totally unwilling to try any of the other helpful 'hints' that supposedly bring it on, mexican food it was. within minutes i found myself eating a chicken burrito from qdoba in my car. and within a few minutes of that i found myself over the top grateful for the plastic to go bag it came in to throw it all right back up. awesome.

and then the real dilemma began. what do you do with a large bag of vomit? i mean really. what do you do? all of the dumpsters in this incredibly busy shopping center were all prettified with gates and fences and i assume hard to figure out latches. and i couldnt very well walk into the qdoba and drop it in a trash can. i began driving around omaha feeling like i had a dead body in the car. seriously. if it were donated items, id look for a drop box. a dvd, just any old redbox would do. even with a baby for the love of pete, id know to drive to a church or fire station, but a bag of warm puke?? i had no ideas but the more i drove the more disgusted i became at the whole thing and the more i started thinking of how good my story would be if i happen to get pulled over for erratic driving...'im sorry officer, i was just looking for a perfect place to dispose of this...'

truth is, im sick of being sick and now there wasnt even a convenient place to be sick. i pulled into what i thought the best option would be...a large trashcan outside a christian book store. i hastily dropped it in, hoped for a little grace and mercy (surely they have a surplus there, right? right??) and drove away feeling like i had just robbed a bank and tossed the gun and evidence. im sure ill head back there at some point and buy something to help ease the guilt and clear my conscience of the 'treasure' i left in their trash, but for now, im going to avoid going anywhere near there and not just because it prolly stinks.

so im counting down the days for this preggie puking chapter to be behind me, all the while watching my belly dance and trying to savor every last bump, flip and roll this precious little one does because at the end of the day, the misery is totally worth being this close to a miracle...

aisle 9

2011-08-24T13:15:00.004-04:00

in light of the thousand things i have failed to post over the past umptyump months, i am a wee surprised (and embarrassed) that this is what i end up sharing with you. but, seriously, its funny. in a seventh grade humor way. i came thisclose to stopping in my tracks and thanking this young couple for giving me the best laugh id had in a loooong time (im blaming the grumpy frumpy miserable preggie ive become on my lack of good will and laughter). anywho...so im at a store enjoying some retail therapy (aka alone time making up uses for stuff i dont need at target) when i overhear a conversation at the other end of the aisle. they were young, but not super young...its amazing what i now consider young...im guessing mid twenties and they were def a sweet couple. this is their dialogue that im sure they would be totally fine with me sharing::

sweet clueless girl:: honey, i just dont see it here. you know what im talking about though, right? its that arousal stuff i need.

not so clueless guy:: no, babe. i dont know what youre talking about. this is furniture cleaner.

sweet clueless girl:: nooo, not cleaner, the arousal stuff. it sprays. its smells awesome and works great!

not so clueless guy:: you mean, aerosol? not arousal? aerosol spray? a-e-r-0-s-0-l?? air freshening aerosol spray?

sweet clueless girl:: oh, yeah. thats it. whatever, same thing.

not so clueless boy:: um, no. its not exactly the same thing. its a waaaaay different thing...

at this point i am laughing so hard i have to excuse myself from eavesdropping, i mean inadvertently overhearing their convo which im bummed about because i would have loved to hear his explanation of the difference to his adorable, vocab challenged girlfriend. so. funny. to me....in a 7th grade humor kind of way.

the anniversary post...again

2011-08-05T10:17:00.003-04:00

i wrote this to you years ago, before the most difficult chapters in my life had been written and what i didnt know then was that you were going to carry us through a painful year as my parents struggled for health and i struggled for faith. i can never thank you enough for the unwavering support, courage and selflessness you managed to show up with day after day when i needed you most. i want you to know that on this anniversary, i am simply in awe of His generosity in giving you to me. we are so proud to be yours....happy anniversary....

2007

do you remember what was happening 9 years ago today? i was meeting you and finally showing up for a divine appointment where 'we' would officially begin. and i know you think its silly and i know you think we should stop celebrating the day we met and stick to the wedding anniversary and i know youre ready to let this date slip from your already filled up planner, but if not for this day there would be no wedding day to celebrate.

do you remember the date that wouldnt end? it was just supposed to be dinner, but an hour later we were still standing in the driveway unwrapping layers of one another as we asked a million questions and shared a million stories. by the end of the night, i knew you were definitely 'friend' material. your honesty, sensitivity, compassion, wit and those navy blue eyes won me over. at the time i was thinking of what friend i had deserving of you. clearly, we would not be an item. after all, you lacked the massive amount of baggage in need of my unpacking to be a candidate for me. who would i be to you when you were already beyond okay? what would i fix and where would i find purpose in your functional life?

do you remember pretending to be interested in my stupid political science class? so interested you asked to borrow the book and then offered to help me study for finals? i knew you were making up reasons to see me and i loved it. i felt interesting and important, that you, this incredibly busy and special 'friend' put 'time with me' at the top of your to do list.

do you remember our first kiss? its a redundant question i know since it has been the source of a playful debate for 9 years. you can try and make amendments to history on how it really went down, but we both know the truth and it scared the living daylights out of me. did you know i sat in my car for 10 minutes wondering what next.

do you remember imagining a future? over the next year and next 8 years, we would find home in one another. we would fail and forgive and fall deeper in love more times than we can count. and i would find overwhelming joy and peace and contentment. and i was right. you were and are 'friend' material. the greatest friend i could have hoped for. someone to share my future, my dreams, my insecurities and my coffee with. when i scratched the surface of you, i found a friend and soul mate. i recognized you as an answer to a prayer that i was afraid to pray. after all, what would i really do if God gave me you? my fear of ruining such a tremendous gift left me nervous at best and terrified most days. what would happen when i wasnt new and interesting and challenging? and yet, there you were day after day, month after month, year after year, showing up for our life together, building a future and laying a foundation with love, truth, faith, patience and commitment. and dont forget laughter. lots and lots of laughter.

do you remember the earliest days? the foundation may be the One who gave us to one another, but the first layer of us, the strongest one, the one that never shifts or threatens to give way is you. remarkable you. and in that moment when i realized you were the perfect 'friend', God got a hold of my heart and began handing it over piece by piece to you. and now, nine years later, the only attributes that rival 'friend' are 'husband' and 'father'.

its easy to love you. and not just because you make great coffee and killer breakfasts and you make life lighter and our future brighter. and not just because you consider our monday night football pizza and beer date sacred and because i sleep better with you next to me. and not just because your nervous giggle is the same when delivering good and bad news and it always keeps me guessing. and not just because i am healthiest and happiest with you and not just because the only person that adores you as much as i do is our beloved daughter. but because simply you are you. easy to love you.

thank you, 'friend' for making the last 9 years worth celebrating.

dear crazy mamas,

2011-02-08T15:11:00.000-05:00

i couldnt help but overhear you today, which lets be honest, was your primary goal while ranting and raving and straight up bull shitting about your sweet (someday in therapy) 4 year olds. while im not a huge fan of mindless small talk, i have occasionally struck up conversations with fellow moms (or nannies here in northern va) and found in them new friends or entertaining acquaintances. i am one of those people (blame it on the transient 'always up for meeting people because im always relatively new' military life style) who enjoys shooting the breeze with other mamas and im always thrilled to chat with someone about something other than our little people. however, you and your crazy insecure sidekicks are so over the top, i had to leave the waiting area to keep you from seeing me rolling my eyes and updating my fb status with YOU guys in it. i had the same overwhelming feeling i have when i see clearly neglected kids at walmart. i wanted to scoop up your three, destined to have issues daughters, and take them home, let them get dirty, eat sugar and NOT practice pointing their toes. you should hear yourselves...

if there had been hidden cameras and your whole bit had been a well scripted joke to gauge other peoples reactions to your ludacris chat, itd be funny. but, there were no cameras, you werent putting on a show and you were serious. crazy serious. first of all, within 4 minutes of your unnaturally high volume conversation, i knew all your kids were in private school and that the tuition, combined with your nanny was astronomical. you worked it in seamlessly, like ive always imagined i would do if i ran a marathon or the ironman. i have a feeling i would make sure everyone knew. like if someone asked me how i was doing today, i might answer, 'great. a whole lot better than i was doing during mile 26 of my marathon two years ago.' or if they asked what i was having for dinner, i might answer, 'something low in carbs. nothing like the pasta i put down the night before my iron man.' im telling you, i could totally see myself awkwardly working my ginormous accomplishment into every conversation whether it fit or not. which is why, its painfully obvious outside your weird circle that you are awkwardly working EVERY detail of your 'accomplished' high rent life into every single conversation.

seriously, the subject of weather comes up and you mention how your hummer handles the snow while dropping your kids off at the private school (that naturally doesnt provide transportation...the nerve) and how your kids are driving you bananas because their traveling gymnastics team that typically occupies 8+ hours a week of your 4 year olds life has cancelled practice along with her piano lessons. how are you surviving these long days with your own kid?? must be horrible. when the subject of the upcoming recital came up, you rolled your eyes in disgust at how ill prepared your child is because you cant get her to practice at home. holy batshit batman, shes FOUR. and perhaps shes a little pooped out trying to keep up with the insanely full schedule you have her on.

so basically, this week, im letting you know that the next time you say something super crazy, im prolly gonna call you on it. and your two equally unstable, envious friends who happily one up each other throughout your conversation will prolly talk about me later. who knows, maybe ill make their facebook status too. i dont really care. you guys are crazy. i feel sorry for your precious girls and i hope at some point you like yourself enough to quit projecting this level of crazy on your kids.

thanks for listening. i feel soooo much betta after allowing my passive aggressive side to vent awhile.

night night

2011-02-04T21:18:00.000-05:00

you are passed out now and its 9:18 pm. passed out in the 'youre overly exhausted after getting up at 0'dark thirty this morning' way and not in the 'had a few shiner bocks and are now unable to hang with my need to converse' way. and while i typically roll my eyes and marvel at just how quickly you can be here one minute and lost in crazy deep sleep the next, i am from my head to my toes, thankful for you. right here. right now. sound asleep next to me. tonight, i know your need for sleep is born of a long day that begins hours before i open my eyes for the first time and awaken to the coffee you have once again made and not had time to drink. you wake early, work hard and come home with just enough of you left to greet your little people, who wait anxiously and enthusiastically, noses pressed to the window most nights for your return.

and i love that our children thank God every night that 'daddy had a great day at work', having never asked the question of what kind of day you really had. they are so confident that everyday is a great day because of you and the way you scoop them up, smile at them and hold them close every time you walk in the door. its no wonder they assume everyday is a great for daddy since everyday, daddy is great to them. so, thank you for getting up, showing up and allowing me to live my dream. the one i didnt know i had until my eyes met hers for the very first time and i was lost. gone. hopelessly taken in by her and wanting more than anything to be the one she spent her days with. sometimes, in the midst of snow days and sick days and long days that bleed into longer nights, its easy to forget that it is you, waking up while the rest of us sleep that makes this life i wouldnt trade for anything possible. so, thanks, we will catch up and check in and ill unload all 24,563 words ive been saving for an adult conversation when you are less tired. no worries. ill wait. sweet dreams.

she isnt 30

2011-01-28T14:34:00.008-05:00

those of you who know me or have spent anytime around my beloved, wicked smaht peach, know i have talked to her like she's 30 since they placed her in my right arm just over 5 years ago (the left was still holding my puke pan from labor). she has always been a pretty mature, insightful kid who is destined to be much brighter than either one of her parents. and im okay with that. in fact, i have thoroughly enjoyed her grown up logic and all of the ways it has made me think harder and faster and often times more thoughtfully about so many of life's complexities. however, every now and then, i am reminded in the most obvious of ways that she is, after all, barely 5. and although she may have some surprisingly advanced logic, at her core, she is a child, navigating this little happy world of hers with the heart and mind of a little person with limited life experience.

back in late december, while planning her upcoming january birthday bash, i asked the peach which 5 friends she would like to invite to her party. the rule at our house for these early years is the number of kids she invites needs to coincide with the age she is turning (go ahead and put your judgment away). so she rattles off her five friends and then quickly adds that she would like to invite one more. most responsible parents would simply remind their child of the rule and move on. however, this girl has me so well trained that i rarely to never give her that simple of an answer. i now predict the ensuing 3 follow up questions and try to include those answers in my initial response. sooo, i told her that i understood her dilemma and if for some reason, one of her five friends rsvpd 'no', that we would certainly extend an invite to this sixth friend. done and done. no further questions.

fast forward a couple of weeks to the hallway at gks preschool where im picking her up. while wrestling her coat, hat and mittens on, she enthusiastically tells me of some really 'great news'. when i asked what it was, she said, 'well, i told #6 today that if one of my 5 friends couldnt come, she got to be invited to my party and she thought that sounded great!' crap. of course she did. a quick scan thankfully revealed no sign of friend #6 or her mother. i grabbed her backpack and lunchbox and clumsily tried to take my own large foot out of her sweet little mouth. really, gk? really? why in the world did you say that to her?? but i knew the answer. its because shes a kid. excited about her party and anxious to get the guest list firmed up (she is at times her mothers daughter). and of course, she'd been given, perhaps in hindsight, a little too much information.

i had no words and really didnt want to have any part of this conversation in our busy little hallway, so i did what any responsible parent who was gripped by the fear of not knowing what she could possible say next would do. i scooped her up and rushed her out the door of the school like it was on fire. once in the car, i took advantage of the short ride home to talk about potential hurt feelings and why we would happily make an exception this year for this sweet, sixth friend of hers. and i couldnt help but remind myself that while she may seem older and wiser and more equipped for the world most days, that at the end of this day i am profoundly grateful that she is still simply 5. sweet. smart. shoving my foot in my mouth for me. five.

dead bolts

2010-12-20T11:39:00.008-05:00

okay, so while i really thought id be blogging more, i now realize this goal can go ahead and join the ranks of wanting to run more and eat less cheese. clearly, i am incapable of making the time to get this done. the truth is, for the most part, my time is not my own. and before you assume im singing the 'whoa es me' mantra of a stay at home mama, let me assure you, i am living my dream and would not wish to have any other precious time thieves than the two little ones i have. and with the lumpy one in preschool two days a week this year, i have revisited the art of long lunches with friends with uninterrupted conversation free of baby wipe napkins and the responsibility of cutting up someones meal. it has been altogether fabulous. however, there are still a number of things i like to do while at home that dont include wiping noses and playing cars, dolls, trains, kitchen, doll house, etc...(this list could go on for pages...thank you, God, for imaginative children....most days).

there are really only two things i totally took for granted before having children...ie, i didnt see these entering the realm of extinction in my life as clearly as i anticipated less sleep and baby weight. they are:: phone time and shower time. who knew? apparently, along with sleep and an ideal weight, my ability to maintain a distraction free conversation on the phone as well as my ability to shower without the constant litany of questions from the other side of the door have vanished. gone. it never fails, the little people are happily playing together, practically reciting scripture in the corner until the phone rings at which time they come unglued. they instantly have 146 ailments, injuries, needs, complaints, questions, arguments, disasters and messes and complete chaos ensues within minutes. my own mom listened to my disbelief at this phenomenon, sympathetically enthralled in my predicament and offered this when i finished, 'at least you can walk away. when you were little, i was tied to the phone by one of those cords, unable to escape the kitchen.' it was at this time i realized how obvious the solution was, i am the adult. i own a cordless phone. i have a bedroom. with a lock on the door.

my plan was hatched. the next phone call i wanted to or needed to take, i was taking, undeterred by the mass chaos that ensued around me. after all, i would just retreat to my bedroom, lock the door and let my responsible 2 and 4 year old work it out, lord of the flies style. maybe santa will bring them a conch for such times as these...either way, im out. when the phone rang and it was a friend i had wanted to chat with, i tiptoed upstairs and locked my door. i experienced almost three minutes of conversation before those people picked up my trail and ended up at my door. i calmly explained id be out in a few minutes and would be happy to hook them up with whatever they needed at that time. i continued to talk while the sound of two whiny voices and 4 little hands pounded on and knocked on the door. it was a mild distraction and i was committed to my plan of just a few minutes on the phone. a moment later, it was silent and i smiled, savoring my small victory, realizing i had taught them a valuable lesson of not interrupting and learning how to entertain themselves for a few minutes. the silence lasted less than a minute and i heard a slight scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. how clever, theyve decided to play kitty or doggie and are pretending to try and get in.

i hadnt even completed the thought when the door opened and standing there with a plastic sword is bonnie and clyde. after immediately hanging up and accepting defeat, this conversation ensued::

me:: um, georgia, what are you doing?

georgia:: i picked the lock with jacks sword.

me:: you did?? how in the world did you do that?

georgia:: i just put it in the knob and turned it the other way to the unlock. it wasnt even tricky. i did it last week when i accidentally locked jack in his room. i can show you how if you want.

me:: no thanks, geogia, i think i can figure it out on my own.

im not sure what to do with this one other than realize that children have been crashing phone conversations since the beginning of phone time and i am no better, smarter or more creative than any other mom with kids before me. im considering a deadbolt, but feel that if i raise the challenge ill simply find myself with a 4 year old who will inevitably take the opportunity to hone her power drill skills. good times.

two words

2010-10-05T12:40:00.007-04:00

its amazing how little blog time my double fly little guy, jdub, really gets. its not his fault, its mine. im busy and short on time and im depositing a few extra bucks into his therapy fund just in case (who am i kidding) he needs it later to help him process the second child syndrome. recently, i took him to his first well baby appointment. i know hes two, 30 lbs and a lumpy little man child now, but one of the most illogical ideas ever invented was the well baby visit. where you bring a WELL (not sick) child to a place where SICK children are. cr hay zeeee. ive been told by my sis in law there is apparently an office in a far off land called dallas, that keeps the two areas separate for the protection of the well people...i imagine it smells like cupcakes and serves coffee, but here, in a land called northern virginia, you wait like sneezing, coughing cattle and it smells like bad hand sanitizer. and since i dont immunize my little people until they are about two (yes, im that super weird person you judge) i dont have any reason to take them when they are well. however, as many of you with little people can imagine, im at the drs office fairly regularly for a litany of other little people illnesses like ear infections, sinus infections and strange coughs from unknown origins. so, before i start receiving hate mail about not getting my kids seen, they are seen. regularly. when they are fresh out of being well.

of course this shifts around age two when i do start taking them in for a yearly physical and occasional shot. last week began that stage for jack. he is now officially two and has perfected his own original versions of several songs although his favorite is still 'happy birthday' which he sings at the top of his lungs to his own enthusiastic applause and then asks for cake. everyday. love that kid. so last week i had both kids with me at the drs office where i packed enough crap for them to eat, break and play with in hopes of keeping them from touching all the surfaces that countless sick kids have licked and touched throughout the day. somehow, in the midst of my 60 lbs of gear, i forgot to pack diapers and while jdub has now told several people a very convincing tale that he is in fact potty training, he is in fact just lying...and pooping on himself.

so, nurse so and so asks me to strip him down to get a good weight check on him and goes as far as trying to extract the two raisins in his fist for a more accurate reading. seriously? i dare you to try and pry those nasty dried morsels of goodness from his fists. you like failure? keep trying. after a few attempts, she gave up and i put his diaper back on him while the nurse put us in our place. the waiting place. where you wait and wait and wait and wonder why you ever thought you needed this particular appointment in the first place. the doctor eventually came in and followed the script of questions about jdubs development. it went like this::

is he walking? yes, around the room right now actually.

can he jump on one foot? um, we dont typically do that at home, but given the right incentive or lack of leg, im sure he could.

does he build blocks? yes. and then he knocks them over and claps...are these real questions?

does he point? no.

how does he show you what he wants? he asks for it.

about this time, gk interrupts the interview with, 'mom, jack stinks really bad.' the dr, not deterred by the interruption continues, does he talk? yes.

does he put two words together? yes. its at this moment that jdub stops playing with cars and says with clarity and conviction, 'huge poop'.

'huge poop, mama, huge poop'. ahhhhhsome, since im fresh out of diapers. and so ended our interview. done and done. the dr left the room, i pillaged the cabinets id spent the waiting time telling the kids to not touch and swiped a newborn diaper off the top shelf for my 30 lb baby. perfect. so the lump walks and talks and poops just like every other well baby and hes not afraid to describe it in detail. good to know.

nice to meet you.

2010-09-29T21:23:00.002-04:00

so here i am after a fairly long hiatus during which i havent necessarily taken a break from rambling, just a break from sharing. mostly because up until recently, this place where i share my everydays has always been a horribly selfishly motivated endeavor. i get to purge or unpack the details of my life in the most therapeutic of ways and at the same time journal my experiences to look back on from time to time (it slightly eases the guilt of not baby booking for my little people). the truth is, however, that while i try to be honest and transparent, authentic and sincere, there are simply pieces and parts of me i am unwilling to part with and put out there for all to see. and perhaps judge. and unfortunately, those parts have become all consuming over the past five months.

its the craziest thing (unnerving at best) to see the starkest of contrasts between who you think you are and who you really are. your tragedy, your loss, your shittiest of circumstances only reinforces who i think i am...someone who sincerely empathizes with you, grieves with you, prays for you and begs on your behalf. but, my tragedy, my loss, my shitty circumstance has introduced me to who i really am. and, while you may know me well or not know me at all, i promise you; this me, in the midst of unfathomable pain, is someone i am still getting to know and up until now im not sure i wanted you to meet.

five months and 7 days ago, my dad had a stroke. the strongest, bravest and greatest man i know was robbed of so much, but while he has fought to regain all that was taken from him, not a day has passed that i havent thanked God for leaving him here. time, i now see in the clearest of ways, is truly the most precious of gifts and i treasure the extra time God has so generously given us with him. in the days following his stroke, we all prayed, shaken but steadfast in our resolve and in our faith, full of gratitude and thanks. within days of his release home, my mother, the kindest, most generous, and easily my most treasured friend was diagnosed with a recurrence of the breast cancer that she had battled and defeated 15 years ago. it was on this day, the day of her diagnosis while still reeling from my dads stroke that i met me. the me who was not shaken, but broken. who was not faith filled, but fear filled. who was not hopeful, but angry. enraged, really. drunk on my own cocktail of rage and grief and disbelief.

and i wrote then like i write now, but to share the thoughts from those early days, to even read them now brings me face to face with someone i didnt know existed. someone incredibly lost and clinging to hope with white knuckles and weakest of grips, begging God for His mercy and divine intervention. what i thought to be true about many things shifted and gave way beneath me, but what i knew to be true has remained a steadfast foundation, sometimes that i stand on and sometimes that i cant get up from. what i know is this:: God is the same. today. as He was before my hero's stroke and my best friends cancer. He is the same. today. before pain and grief, shock and fear. before worry and sadness, doubts and disbelief. and He will be the same tomorrow. regardless of the magnitude of the situation, He is never changing. He will show up as He has faithfully done amid every moment of joy He has generously given and every tear He has wept with me. He is capable and in control, kind and in love with my parents, almighty, powerful, merciful. He has not been surprised by any of this and is holding us close while the storms of adversity rage around us just as He held us while we were drowning in a sea of joyous blessings. just putting that in size 12 font fills me with the peace and comfort so many of you have prayed for.

i am me. i am checking in, getting to know myself and letting the rest of you in on the me ididnt know was there. i am okay. and while i am a version of myself i didnt know before 5 excruciatingly long and short months ago, the more i get to know the real me, the one He has created me to be, the more intimately i am getting to know Him, the One capable of carrying all of us through this season.

nice to meet you.

2010-09-29T14:05:00.011-04:00

i am me. i am checking in, getting to know myself and letting the rest of you in on the me i didnt know was there. i am okay. and while i am a version of myself i didnt know before 5 excruciatingly long and short months ago, the more i get to know the real me, the one He has created me to be, the more intimately i am getting to know Him, the One capable of carrying all of us through this season.

still

2010-05-12T13:15:00.004-04:00

i wrote this to you a short three years ago...and while much has changed with our family, my love, respect and adoration for you have not. you are still the one i count on and look to in times of joy and times of grief. most recently, friend, you have been a rock for me, listening and praying, loving and reassuring me with eyes that see my pain and feel it too as my faith and hope have been recklessly tossed about. thank you for being more to me than i could imagine and for loving me in the most secure ways. you, my love, are worth reminding of a date 12 years ago....

eleven minutes

2010-04-22T08:50:00.000-04:00

so ive got around eleven minutes before the lumpy one will be joining me after he hops out of his crib without any effort to blog and im thinking eleven minutes is actually a pretty long time. jack has begun climbing out of his crib with the ease of spiderman and while i was initially panicked, im now seeing it as a sign of him growing up, becoming responsible for his own sleeping habits and of course getting one day closer to being capable of making my coffee.

we just got back last night from a quick weekend trip to hershey, pa and for those of you who are exceptionally slow, that would be the mother ship of the chocolate company. i consumed enough chocolate to make me sick and the kids started and ended each day with a mouthful of sugar. we did a day at hershey park (thank you hershey man for making it a discounted day for the military) and better half and i were able to rediscover one of our first loves. roller coasters.

somehow, in spite of our shared fear of fixed heights, we both looooooooove a great roller coaster. the pics they snap mid ride always tell the tale...this time around i had one pic that looked like i was on the brink of tears (thats a good ride) and another that looked like id just been told id won a winery in tuscany (this would be a happy crazy surprised face). both of them, however, only showed one chin so i was pleased and as tempted as i was to throw down the $12 for these tacky 4x6 souvenier pics to commemorate the thrilling time, i did manage to pass on them. we spent that $12 later on a kids meal. anywho...we had a really great day and loved spending the weekend with some of our besties and the fam.

a close second to my love of roller coasters is my love of people watching and for me, an amusement park is like hitting the mother lode on this obsession. i waffle between judgment and relief (im just being honest here) as i see the landscape of our country and where i fit in. and im still amazed at the number of tattoos that everyone seems to have. as one who has longed for one since i was 15, i can now safely say that over the last 6 months (no kidding) ive decided maybe i dont want one. the truth is they seem to be the least badass thing you can do these days with everyone from soccer moms to dentists having them. and really, that dolphin i desperately wanted 17 years ago would look like a dying beached whale on my navel at this point. and of course the sun i wanted on my back would look like a tramp stamp and the turtle i wanted on my foot would look like an open wound from a distance. most recently i wanted a word (i love words) on my wrist. alas, i couldnt decide on a word and am now thankful i didnt slap one on there. i guess im just realizing a tattoo is not a wise investment for a gemini who changes her mind at least twice a minute and has the attention span of a drunk gnat. i still see one on occasion that has me a little envious, but as time goes (and i seem to grow up....imagine that) i become less and less enamored with the idea of permanently putting something on my body. my parents are not so silently relieved.

road tripping with the little people is always a pleasure as well. mind you, this was only 2 1/2 hours, a laughable amount to all you road warriors with hundreds of hours logged and the crumbs proudly stuck in between the seats marking all of your journeys. however, for us amateurs, it was a drive. before heading home i decided, in a move that i was certain would pay dividends later, to find a parking lot and slap some jammies on these over sugared, under slept kids. while it did require a bit of effort, i assured my better half it would be worth our time, making for a seamless transition from car to bed with sleeping children upon our return home.

i somehow forgot we have the only two children who are incapable of sleeping in the car. as in, gk prefers to giving us a mile by mile commentary on her ever changing surroundings and jdub prefers throwing books and blowing his nose (his new talent) in his hands. i had to explain to the peach why we were no longer eating snacks as we had just completed 48 hours of chocolate and amusement park food and while that seem to satisfy her for awhile, she eventually began questioning my mothering abilities with, 'mom, did you pack any healthy snacks for me? im really hungry'. no, georgia, nothing healthy. rule #3 of a road trip is crappy snacks that taste great, curb hunger and can also do double duty by bribing you to be quiet when your dad and i get desperate. cant really imagine getting much leverage from a carrot stick.

and so it went. for 2 1/2 hours. they were really really good even if they didnt sleep and im just counting down the wake ups until we get to start our 16 hour road trip to the beach. perhaps by then ill be splitting a tylenol pm between the two of them. ill research that for the rest of you and report back.

happy summer and happy road tripping.

got phobias?

2010-04-20T11:52:00.001-04:00

i have many phobias im not entirely proud of...flying, bridges (not the concrete variety but the archy metal over the top kind), mice, fixed heights (as in the ledge/edge or overlook of anything) and commitment. interestingly enough, the only phobia that keeps me from living out my days to the fullest is my commitment phobia. while most people i know feel over committed, i seem to hang out in the world of the under committed. i feel like the vast majority of my time (at least in the waking hours) is spoken for by two very needy (albeit downright sweet and adorable) little people and the time that isnt theirs is ours (the family that is). parting with any of this time is as easy as giving up my morning pot of joy.

i would no more let my fear of flying keep me from seeing the world or a fear of heights keep me from experiencing the thrill of sky diving than i would let myself pass the hot donuts now sign at krispy kreme, but commitment? thats another story. i let it keep me from experiencing things all the time. i can sugar coat it under the guise of 'protective of my family time' or 'prioritizing whats best for my family', but the truth of the matter is i just dont like committing too much of MY time too far in advance. i like giving one time donations, hosting one time events, attending one time meetings, planning one time vacations. but, unfortunately, when someone asks me for more than that, i quickly retreat into 'ill get back to you' speak or 'ill think about it' (which we all know is just buying time to justify the weak answer of 'no').

and im working on it. im leading a group of high school girls on a weekly basis in our home and over the course of this year, this weekly commitment has blessed me in ways i didnt know it could. and im finally getting 'it'...the 'it' for me is that there are certain blessings that ONLY come from commitment. rewards that you can only experience AFTER truly giving of yourself on a regular basis. sometimes, as much as i crave the goodness from a one time event, i realize more and more the really great stuff only happens over time and after investing more of my selfish self than im comfortable with. this is a flaw God is working out in me one day at a time as i realize how empty my life would be without a few of my biggest commitments like my marriage, my faith, some friendships and of course this very long term commitment of motherhood. so, im on it. willing to let God work this out in me and willing to commit more of myself and more of my time. what fears are keeping you from experiencing the goodness that could be coming your way if you were willing and able to overcome them? just a thought worth unpacking when you have a minute.

crazy

2010-04-07T21:00:00.000-04:00

im watching you now and youre staring at me. you think im crazy. and i may be. i may truly be thisclose to losing my mind. for you. you are growing and changing and challenging me in ways i didnt know existed. i am growing and learning, failing and falling. more in love with you. more in awe of you. you, my beautiful girl are a spark. a light. a fire that flickers and fades and draws me in. i stare at you a lot these days trying to catch the thief that changes you in the most subtle of ways right before my eyes. your face has thinned, your legs have grown, your tone has shifted and i missed it. im watching closer now. i dont want to miss anymore.

you are not my baby, but a grown up 4 year old with grown up ideas and grown up logic. i catch you as you race by me and i hold you, squeeze you tight and breathe you in amid giggles and pleas to be released. i have stolen more of these moments from you as you run faster and farther. and i want you to know, at 4 at 7 at 14, you will always be my baby and i will take as many moments from you that you will give me. i will share time and stop time and beg with every part of me to slow time down. i love the you i know and i love the you i dont know, the one you are becoming one day at a time. and i am privileged and proud to be yours. i love being your mommy and i love planting the seeds throughout our days that we will sow together in the future. i love that youre funny. that you amaze me with your curiosity and your questions. that you leave me dumbfounded and fresh out of answers on a regular basis. and youre learning. and im learning. im learning that the more i try and teach you, impress upon you attributes of compassion, generosity, faith and love, i am molded by our Creator to live those out in a more authentic way as well. you, sweet girl, make me a better person. the person i long to be in the eyes of my Father, is the person you are helping me become in the eyes of the most remarkable little girl ive ever known.

so, humor me while i gaze crazily and try to memorize every distinct detail of wondrous you before they change and you change and im left to discover the new you. i love you, georgia kate. thank you for allowing me to shape and mold and grow and learn with you, my baby girl.

God is still God and im inspired

2010-03-28T21:49:00.004-04:00

very powerful story...i can only hope that when faced with the daily 'issues' of my day, i can remember this. remember him. and keep it all in perspective. God is good. God is still good. and i am left humbled and inspired by zac and the numerous others He has recently placed in my path...i realize daily just how much i have to learn and how far i have to go.

jimmy dean

2010-03-28T19:16:00.007-04:00

i have always had sausage fingers. regardless of weight or size, my fingers have always resembled a nice collection of 10 sausage links in varying lengths. in hawaii, after an evening of grilling out with great friends and probably a few great drinks, one of my friends found out that my middle name (prior to me getting hitched and making my maiden name part of the deal) was for the vast majority of my life 'dean'. as in katherine dean. as in katie dean. as in of course (how the hell could i have missed the obvious correlation my entire life) katie dean sausage. fingers that is. trust me when i tell you that in order for you to get the heelariousness of this night, you did have to be there preferably with a slight buzz and a front row seat to frank (the friend) giving out his best katie dean sausage fingers commercials. they were funny. i laughed. i still laugh every time i think of it. what made it funny was a combination of many things, but what made it super funny to me was that it was just my fingers. wouldnt have been so funny if it had been 'katie dean sausage body'.

which leads me to my recent journey through the trenches of hell known as swimsuit shopping. two things i know i should have done more of before having kids (which incidentally i didnt figure out until after having them. (thats fairly typical of my luck and judgment) 1. sky diving (once was not enough) and 2. bikini wearing. yes, i wore them. a lot. always under the constant self loathing that bookended my bikini esteem from ages 14 to 28. i see pictures now of those days that had me hating my body and am saving them for my plastic surgeon for what i want my after pictures to look like. i would no more put on a bikini today than attempt to do math in public. im not putting my kids through it (seriously, your kids do not want their mom rocking a bikini) and im really not willing to put myself through it. but alas, who really loves their body in a bikini and more importantly who wants to be around someone who does? ill take self deprecating friend time on the beach any day over 'happy to be in my body' banter. like thats fun.

anywho, i decided it was time to add to my swimwear wardrobe this spring. when i originally ventured out in february, i put on a suit and immediately thought, 'okay, this is way too soon. clearly im still winterized', must wait until spring. but we all know that the early bird gets the worm or in my case, the reluctant winterized shopper will at least get sizes other than 2 and 16 to choose from. part of my problem (which i assure you is vast) is i have not committed a day in advance to this endeavor. its always grabbing a few minutes of time to try something on and then realizing it doesnt work. if i had a day in mind, i could at least go tanning (spray on, mom, i promise) and of course a 24 hour fast wouldnt hurt either, but these few minutes here and there with kids with me is not conducive to swimsuit shopping success. take last week for example when i had jack with me at an unnamed store. i grabbed a few options that involved mini swim skirts (the lamest attempt ever to make a 'mom' suit sexy) and halter tops. i also grabbed a box of yogurt covered raisins to keep jack happy. while stripping down to swimsuit attire, i noticed jack was now eating the raisins off the floor. thats dirty. and awesome because i would need to make a large deposit to his future therapy fund if he were actually paying attention to his half naked crazy mother frantically tugging and tying and turning around. which i should not have done. things werent awesome from the front, but really, a 3 way mirror in a dressing room?? shouldnt those only be in the common dressing area, as in youd have to really want to see yourself from 3 angles to do it? why are they forcing reflections of myself on me id rather not see right there in the dressing room? i made a mental note to fill out a customer service card, just a simple suggestion of removing the 3 way mirrors when the swimwear arrives would be sufficient. while staring at myself in disgust, jack thankfully broke the mood with the pin cushion. as in he found it somehow between fistfuls of dirty raisins and was now beginning to put the pin in his mouth. so, i moved in quickly and saved the boy from the choking hazard. i did nothing about the dirty raisins. i decided to call this a wasted day and started getting dressed. i was between the swimsuit and my clothing (that brief minute when you can think of nothing other than the comfort of your own clothes that fit and hide hail damage) when jack opened the dressing room door. thank you, jack. now im naked and horrified. what a great combo. in one seamless move jack was tossed and the door was closed, with a barricade of me preventing any future public exposure.

we left that wonderful 3 way mirror, pin cushion, lever handle door knobs store and came home. which was awesome because my $400 lands end order was waiting on the steps! yay! i had been assured by several very reliable sources that lands end was made for moms and grandmas and all varieties of women who need some bathing suit help (which i find somewhat deceiving because none of their models need any help, but whatever). apparently, they have an insane amount of spandex (which i always thought i should avoid, but supposedly, when in a suit, it has a less trashy scary look and manages to hold you in) it sounded altogether magical. i have never in my life been in such a hurry to go through the hell of putting on a suit, but with the lands end package in hand, i felt my luck was changing. ill say right now, dont take me to vegas. i put that spandex filled contraption on and looked. and stared. i look like something...something familiar, wait for it...oh, clearly, i looked like a sausage in casing. a big katie dean sausage. you have got to be kidding me. am i really the one person in the world who cant even wear a lands end suit? i have already returned all but one of them. the one i kept is really not good. add in what i paid for it and its down right ridiculous, but im not giving up or giving in. i am keeping this casing until i look great in it or find something else. im ordering from athleta this week...ill keep you posted.

want vs need

2010-03-17T21:45:00.000-04:00

what i want to blog about today is my recent swimsuit shopping endeavor aptly named 'mission somewhat impossible' or 'holy crap, these two kids have done a number on me' or 'whose arse is that really in the mirror', but instead, what i need to blog about today is the recent wave of stories ive read of families losing those they love, a child, a father, a wife. families who are drowning in grief one excruciatingly long moment at a time. and i dont want take you down these gut wrenching roads with me as i relive their journey with them in size 12 font nor do i want to ruin your day with their sadness. rather, i want to give you the cliff notes version of what im taking away from them. if all i do is read and weep and lift gut wrenching prayers on behalf of their suffering, but fail to change something within myself, i have missed it. i have missed the opportunity of their lifetime to change the course of mine. and after reading and weeping, their lives are more than worthy of altering my own. their lives and love are heavy enough to permeate my days if ill let them and today as i sit here and am left with the opportunity to reflect, i want nothing more than to be saturated by their legacies.

i will cherish the interruptions to my plans. this will not mean celebrating a blizzard that delays my husbands return home (although how blessed i am to have a husband coming home). rather, it means giving my 'plans' their due priority. laundry can wait while i read books under a blanket with one very cuddly baby boy. dinner can wait while i attend yet another afternoon tea party with 4 babies, two puppies and one very proud 4 year old peach. we will blow off errands to play at the park, get out the play dough, puzzles and paint and blow bubbles until we're sick of it. what im learning daily is that the joy justifies the mess every time. and while i love a clean house and enjoy nice things, at the end of the day we are not living in a museum (and seriously, mt vernon is nice, but i would never want that old stuffy house anyway) and our home is so much more about the feelings within it than the crap filling up the spaces.

i rocked my son to sleep today just because i could. he would have happily laid down and fallen asleep, just like he will do the majority of his life, but today, while looking at him i swear i saw changes in him from a week ago. he is growing and changing and running faster than i would like to admit. so, now, while i can catch him, im going to hold him. we prayed for these families as we rocked back and forth and when i laid him down in his crib i saw the verse painted on the wall above ::

for He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go.

psalm 91:11

i have always imagined the wherever being more than his physical location (although those of you that know our sweet and fearless boy can most certainly attest to angels holding his hands and protecting him from a 3 story fall most recently). more than his physical location and condition, i prayed when placing this above jacks crib that His angels would be protecting him in his spirit, in his heart and in his mind. i imagined them sitting with him in times of grief and loneliness, in longing and pain. i imagined them celebrating with him in moments of joy and elation, in love and success. and i am comforted by a God who is there, filling up and filling in the spaces of our grief and corners of our doubt. in our justified anger and outrage. in our all consuming fear and sadness. He is there. even when we are so removed from Him, we cannot feel Him. even when we deny His presence. He is still there. my prayer for these families as they crawl through every stage of their grief and suffering is they would feel Him, too. that His angels would protect them wherever they go. that His arms would offer a haven of comfort and sanctuary of peace. and most of all, that i can honor their loved ones with how i choose to spend the minutes of my days. it is the one tribute worthy of their legacy that will forever be a part of mine.

the perks

2010-02-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

when you are away and i am on my own, i tell myself there are some perks to my reclaimed, semi forced independence. there is a bed that i can sleep in the middle of, a laundry basket that takes longer to fill and quiet evenings of alone time to do whatever i choose to do.

and while the perks are easy to see coming and look forward to (as we both know what a bed and blanket hog i can be) they never fail to disappoint. the truth is that the perks are simply a figment of my imagination that allow me to be overly optimistic about time apart. unfortunately, the reality is that nearly 10 years into this union of we, i am no longer completely me separate from you.

this union and this life with you, this marriage and this love have taken up more of me than i knew it could. so much so that when i am alone, i am missing the best part of myself. the person i was before is now so intricately woven into this life we share, i no longer recognize her on her own. and i am forever grateful that in your presence, i am whole and in your absence, i am missing something. the something that helps me sleep soundly and easily, comforted most by simply knowing you are there. the something that fills my time with conversation or easy silence. the something that offers me profound encouragement and reassurance just by sharing the same space.

when you are gone, i am missing something. something precious, sacred and treasured. something loved and cherished and adored. i am missing the 'we' that He has created, the 'us' that we have evolved to and the family that we are. the something i am missing most in the hours of my days and minutes of my nights is you. more than anything. you.

**it happens

2010-02-08T11:10:00.000-05:00

normally i avoid poop stories. mostly because there is still a part of me left from my childhood that would like to pretend no one poops. im sure it stems in part from growing up in a house with 3 girly girls living in it and no place for bathroom humor. i didnt know poop could be funny until i met pat and then of course his sister who is a total girl and can still find bathroom humor somewhat entertaining. and while i continue to avoid most conversations that center around poop, lately its becoming unavoidable.

i find it truly amazing what motherhood will do with an aversion to poop. she comes in with this bundle of joy and then all but immerses you in a sea of sh**. it starts with seemingly harmless poop that barely exists and is mostly scent free. and then of course before you know it, you are changing the diapers of a manchild who eats everything you eat and the nasty grows. then theres potty training (which for me was pretty uneventful the first time around which all but guarantees a multitude of poop issues the second time around) and then the announcements from the backseat of, 'i have to poop. a little, but please hurry' or while at the playground you suddenly find yourself leaving one child in the care of total strangers to take the other child into the woods to poop by the old oak tree.

and if not for the 24 hour span i recently experienced, i might be able to let this post pass, but as one who has just had the poopscapades ive had, i just have to share. you can thank me later.

on wednesday while hosting some of the coolest people in the world for their visit to d.c., we were all doing our part in helping me get the peach to preschool. we'd had a lazy morning of coffee drinking and talking and before i knew it i had exactly 7 minutes to get georgia to school. which was awesome because we were all still in our jammies. i began flying around upstairs disguising my lack of hygiene with a hat and spackling on some under eye concealer to trick people into thinking id had a lot more sleep than the few hours i really had. gk was in her room independently getting herself ready when i heard a blood curdling scream from her bathroom. i went running, as any semi responsible mama would and found her pants down, crap smeared self standing next the toilet. i said, 'sweetie, WHAT is the matter???' to which she answered, 'my brother did THIS!' and pointed into the potty. i hadnt even noticed jdub standing there until that moment. but just as she said, there he was, with a fistful of her necklaces looking into the poop filled potty. apparently, hed bum rushed the toilet, knocked her off and thrown something of value into the now crowded toilet. when i looked down, i could see what was freaking her out. the FREE plastic necklace shed picked out at the doctors office eons ago was now at the bottom of the toilet. everything in me wanted to 'accidentally' flush and move on, but i knew if it got stopped up, id have to admit to patrick (who is no plumber) that i had in fact, lazily chosen to take my chances and flush the necklace/poop combo. crap. so, i did what any sleep deprived, rushed mother of two who has become so desensitized to things that just a few short years ago would have had me gagging or hiring help to take care of. i reached in and grabbed that piece of crap necklace, flushed the poop, cleaned the toilet and the peach and began sanitizing all surfaces. and we were only 4 minutes late for school.

this should be the end of the story or at least the end of the poop story, but shock of all shocks, it isnt. i had around 24 hours to recover from the trauma of 'operation crappy jewelry' before experiencing poopscapade numero dos.

gk has had a cough for weeks. long enough for me to dismiss the 'its just a cold' theory and long enough for me to take her to the doctor for real meds. unfortunately, real meds have real side effects. some of you mamas are already tracking. that little miracle antibiotic, augmentin, is good for two things: curing what ever ails you and causing insane amounts of poop.

day 1 on the augmentin:: 'mooooooom, i need you, i had an accident.' i was sluggish to respond. mostly because she hasnt had an accident in many many months and even more so because i was chatting with my mom on the phone. i casually walked over to the bathroom and said something along the lines of 'mom, i gotta go, theres poop EVERYWHERE'. click.

and there was. the toilet, the floor, the door, the door knob, the rug, the peach. everywhere. seriously? apparently the antibiotic was doing wonders for her cough and her intestines. nice. so, we cleaned, cloroxed and sanitized all appropriate floors, knobs and surfaces. this was a scene that would repeat itself on a much smaller scale no less than 3 more times that day. three. (arent you thrilled im not sharing those details?) during the clean up of the first disaster, jdub managed to climb on top of the dining room table and fall off. fortunately his fall was broken by one of the chairs (weak silver lining, i know). at some point (although i barely remember it) i called patrick at work and gave him a run down of my morning on his voice mail. i must have sounded pathetic enough to land some serious sympathy points because he arrived home that night with the prettiest box of chocolates ive ever seen.

im hoping this is the last chapter in my long list of poopscapades, but with two little people in the house that continue to eat, i highly doubt this is the end of it. good times. please feel free to share any of your poopscapades, now that i get bathroom humor and know whats funny, id love to hear them. cheers to motherhood and her very dry sense of humor.

dear mr. bobcat man,

2010-02-07T13:30:00.001-05:00

okay, so i may need to apologize for a brief minute. you see, today, when i looked out my window and saw you maneuvering the coolest piece of machinery ive seen in a long time, i was in awe of you. (and while im no machinery expert, im guessing the bobcat you were driving has to be the coolest mini dozer in all the land). i came running out to ask you to remove some snow from behind one of our cars and i totally chickened out. yes, that was me, running to you and then running away. i then came in the house to send out my super cool hubby to ask what i was unable to ask. he, being a guy, was totally impressed but not awe struck (although he did compare you to a super hero once you left). i just want to say thank you. thank you for removing the 7 foot pile of snow from behind our weak sauce vw which would be going nowhere until spring if not for you and your amazing side kick, super bob the bobcat. i brought you coke, beer and offered hot chocolate. i would have invited you in for dinner, but something inside me (perhaps that rare logical side of me that occasionally emerges) helped me control myself.

you are amazing. you have freed our car, our afternoon and renewed my faith in our home owners association. you prevented me from keeping vigil in our one clear space to keep lazy neighbors from swiping it. inevitably you prevented a weak suburban type brawl all with your snow moving skillz. you have made me want to invest in a bobcat for the once in a millenium blizzard just for the once in a lifetime experience of feeling the glory of being you, super hero bobcat man.

and its super bowl sunday. how cool is that? you get to be the hero of one of the greatest battles of man vs nature on the same day every man, woman and child will be watching another legendary, history making game. well, i for one, mr. bobcat man, will remember you far longer than ill remember the superbowl champs.

so forgive me for being an over zealous fan, but seriously, as one incredibly observant husband commented as you so humbly drove away, 'that guy just saved our bacon.' thanks, mr bobcat man for saving the bacon and so much more. you are the superbowl champion of snowpocolypse 2010.

resolutions

2010-02-02T13:47:00.000-05:00

i know you thought early february would be entirely too late to post a few new years resolutions. clearly you dont know me and how notoriously late i roll. so here goes in absolutely no particular order my list (less some of you type A crazies try and crack the code...there simply is none).

1. i will have my list done no later than february 3rd. already im exceeding expectations for myself.

2. i will continue busting my arse at the gym even if only for 10 more pounds. they are afterall, the most resilient 10 pounds in all the land, resisting mile after mile of calorie burning, exhaustion inducing treadmill time. they are my nemesis and i will run them off this year. or i lll give up entirely and toast my defeat with a pint of ben and jerrys. either way, im all in for at least a little while longer.

3. taking my cue from the movie julie & julia, i will no longer have friends i dont like. admit it, if you are a woman, you have friends you dont like. its crazy and im confident one of the reasons women still dont get equal pay...men dont have friends they dont like. we have got to correct this insanity. im starting now.

4. i will stop eating chips and salsa for lunch everyday. mostly because i can no longer justify to gk why she MUST finish her nitrate free sandwich, organic milk, organic fruit and last nights leftover veggies before she can have (drumroll) yogurt covered raisins. all of this with a mouthful of some vegetable oil fried tortilla chips and salsa. the hypocrisy has been brought to my attention by one fairly insightful 4 year old and i am fresh out of a legit comeback. they may also have formed an alliance with my 10 pounds. this is one happy union im going to attempt to break up.

5. if there are type As and type Bs, ive decided im a type Z. im finally okay with that. i have come to terms with how im wired up and i will no longer resist my type Z tendencies which include lots of to do lists that list numerous things ive already done, just because i like crossing things off and feeling like im making progress. logic rarely comes into play with type Zs.

6. i will finally clear out my linen closet and along with it years of linen loving collecting. at this point, we could have 7 beds made, with everyone wetting the bed the same night and not one would be without a fresh, clean set of sheets. crazy. i could be considered a linen hoarder. i have crappy towels from a decade ago that ive been saving in case we give the dog a bath. except we havent had abe since may of 2007 and i would never wrap up one of my soft, sensitive skin kids in one of them, so they need to go. along with the shower curtain from our first house. i paid too much for it and have been hanging onto it out of guilt. of course i just spent $30 to mail something to hawaii...type Z. nuff said.

7. we will invest stock in julios seasoning & chips, blue bell ice cream and shiner bock beer. why? because everyone we know outside the state of texas would offer up their first born or at least a kidney to have all three in the same house at the same time. theyre just that good. except for that seasonal shiner that tasted like crap. that was a rare exception.

8. i plan on watching mizzou and texas a & m lose every single game this season. especially when mizzou plays criminal ku and a & m faces t.u. this is my new expectation and im not holding out for any pleasant surprises. no edge of your couch anticipation, no game day parties with neutral friends who watch us become heartbroken fans left with nothing more than stories of decades past where victory was really a possibility. nope. from now on, we are looking forward to another rebuilding year.

9. i will no longer allow myself to get sucked into the infamous military wife chatter of one upsies. so, we moved 5 times in 8 years with a lot of crazy highs and lows and last minute change of plans. there in lies the story of EVERY military family. youre not special. im not special. in fact, we have had it pretty easy considering what so many other families have endured. we are unbelievably blessed to have job security serving in the most noble of ways no less with the perks of seeing the world. does it suck somedays? of course. am i drinking the kool aid? not a chance. but, i am guilty of listening to the litany of military speak complaints and sharing my own hard to believe tales. im done with it and promise to do better. at least until better half deploys again...then ill need some accountability...angie, dont let me slip. :)

10. i will blog more. my disclaimer is they may stink. i may have nothing to say or share, but i certainly wont let my lack of worthy material keep me from putting it out there. i have to make a more consistent effort. heres to mediocrity and a happy 2010.

awwww. kward

2010-01-14T14:51:00.000-05:00

im sorry in advance for this post. a) it wont be that good b) its a little gross c) i wish i had something else to blog about, but as this incident and accompanying images from it is seared in my mind, my hope is that once i have purged it here for you, i may be able to release myself from its memory. at least thats the goal.

i have become a legit, completely committed gym person. it is no longer my matchy matchy attire that keeps me going nor the excuses for new running shoes, but rather the hour plus of alone time (i completely tune out any and all other people there) that i am able to spend by myself watching sportscenter on my treadmill or listening to 'katies groove' on my ipod (which consists of everything from coldplay to outkast to kenny chesney). i love my gym time. i love going, i love running and lifting and getting a great workout in on a regular basis. let me clarify really quick here for those of you that know me and are wondering who took over my mind that once lived by the clear mantra of 'dont run unless someones chasing you' and 'i hate exercise so much id drive to the bathroom if i could', i assure you i have not become one of THOSE people. you know, the weird runners high crew who really do love running as much as they love cheesecake. i promise you, i still love cheesecake more. i have simply come to value the time it gives me with my thoughts to burn a few calories. however, last week i was traumatized.

my locker room at the gym is quaint (read small) with numerous 3 foot benches strewn about bolted securely to the floor in front of lockers. there is never more than 5 people in the locker room at one time. ever. and i like my privacy. i like showering at home with closed doors and yummy soap and the lack of athletes foot on my tiles. i like fluffy towels and clean steamy mirrors. my gym has none of these, which is why i save my naked time for home. i wish more people did. not that im bothered by naked strangers around me, but seriously, towels, people, towels. the other night after running for an hour i retreated to the locker room to lay on a bench and drink my water. the split second between sitting on the bench and laying down was just enough time for g.i. body builder jane to swoop over to my bench and have a seat on the other end. with a whole 18 inches between us, i was anxious for her to get dressed or find her towel, but whatever. it was at this moment i decided it would be more awkward for me to move to another bench and make jane uncomfortable. wouldnt want to make anyone uncomfortable, would we?? so i sat. and focused on my hydrating. and then she started stretching. stretching. as in yoga on MY bench NAKED. really? still no towel available, jane? or maybe that bench right over there with no one on it would work? why is this bench with awkward me now so focused on my water bottle i think i could light it on fire with just my concentration so appealing? and why wouldnt you take advantage of those awesome mats out in the gym conveniently there for you guessed it, stretching? why must you be here so close to me and so naked that im now wishing i was anywhere else...you know so this wouldnt be so awkward? apparently, jane couldnt hear me thinking so the stretching continued for quite some time (like most wonderfully pleasant situations) before i casually got up and exited stage right.

and i do still love my gym time and i dont mind my locker room time, but the towels need to be bigger and mandatory and the benches need to be smaller and made for one, preferably non stretching person. and perhaps under all the signs of 'cell phone use prohibited' and 'towels only, please' there could be just one more, 'no naked stretching on benches, please'. i feel better already. thanks for letting me purge.

almost right

2009-12-29T22:00:00.000-05:00

so today, while attempting to call my brilliant and talented friend, natalie, i relied heavily on my crazy good memory. i recalled her digits from deep within the depths of my tired mind...a number i had not dialed in over 2 years (because im THAT awesome at keeping in touch). often wrong but never in doubt (as my incredibly perceptive dad likes to point out), i dialed. ring ring. ring ring. so a few more rings later and the voicemail kicks in. this message was so outlandishly stupid with the thickest, weirdest accent and strangest names imaginable, that i, remembering natalies adorable sense of humor, proceeded to ramble on a 5 minute message. no joke. of course i mentioned the 'clever' voice mail message noting the weird accent (afterall, she lives in south dakota) among other numerous details of my life before laughing once again at her creativity with the voicemail and finally hanging up. a few minutes passed when i thought to 'double check' my crazy good recall skillz with my contacts list. yes, i had her number in my contacts all along, but my phone was charging and i was so very sure of myself. blah blah blah. once i checked the number (merely for some ego stroking affirmation) i realized i was off by one number. just one. but...we all know thats really all it takes, right? so im waiting for freak show voicemail people to call me back anytime. ill keep you posted. sometimes i really impress myself with the level of dumb i somehow reach. good job, katie, that memory is almost as awesome as your judgment.

something brilliant

2009-12-16T13:55:00.000-05:00

if you were hoping for something brilliant to read, join the club. im simply hoping for coherent thoughts that fit like puzzle pieces rather than one of those stupid staring pictures that were oh so popular a decade ago. the ones where if you looked at them long enough and let your eyes glaze, the most wonderfully obvious picture would come into view. ive never ever been able to see one. maybe im not patient enough to wait, maybe when my eyes glaze my mind quickly follows or maybe my failure to recognize the obvious in those pictures is one more facet of my life where regardless of the time i spend, the obvious hidden meaning eludes me far longer than id like to admit. clarity for me, im afraid, simply takes more time, effort and experience than one of those eye glazing moments. the truth is, it sometimes takes years.

and here i am, finally soaking up a bit of clarity in a house that is strangely silent except the soft hum of our heat and im staring at the most perfectly imperfect Christmas tree with ornaments crammed on the top third so the littlest of the little people can no longer reach/choke/break them. i cant help but think of this most glorious season of giving and receiving and what i have to be thankful for. ive had this pervasive thought over the last few weeks as certain people have crossed my mind that you can tell so much about ones priorities by how they spend their time and how they spend their money. i know of some of the most generous people who sacrificially give to so many with their time, talents and finances. i know of others that while they have much to offer, are mere sponges in life. soaking up excessive amounts of attention, love and possessions without so much as giving a trickle of themselves in return. one is incredibly inspiring, the other nauseating. i have the profound privilege of spending one night a week with a group of high school girls from our church. its a life group of sorts where we share our days, questions, concerns, thoughts and prayers for one another. we had our Christmas party last night and one of the girls on her own had asked if we could collect money and purchase something through world vision. her generosity moved me. her thoughtfulness inspired me. at 14, she has a sincere consideration and compassion for others. and so in the midst of laughter and comfort, we stopped and shopped for those who this Christmas (as well as the other 364 days of the year) have very little. we are financing the education of 3 kids for a year simply because one person thought of someone else.

priorities tend to shift over time with the demands we place on ourselves or have placed on us. while we tend to say our priorities are the same...many say faith, family, friends and others....like who really wants to admit theyre number one priority is themselves? yet, i know people who live out their faith in the most dutiful of ways, see their families with the leftovers of themselves and rarely make time for the friends in their lives. and others? what others. sure, while the idea of helping and serving those in need is a lovely thought, it is just that. a thought. a thought that crosses the mind, camps out long enough to conjure up a grateful thought, maybe even a quick tear and then leaves as quickly as it entered, never leaving a trace it was ever there. and if im being honest (which i tend to do here) i empathize with this more than id like to admit and while its easiest to point the finger at the biggest sponges i know, the truth is i have had countless moments where i found myself caught up in the overwhelmingly sad reality of others only to simply move on and back into my own world where things are much easier to stomach and the blessings are too numerous to count.

and i want to do more and be more to those most in need. if i truly want to raise selfless children with hearts of compassion and gratitude, they have to see it first with me. and regardless of what we do already, i know we could do more. when i think of the money spent at this time of year, this glorious time that began with the greatest gift of a Savior, born bloody and crying in the arms of His mother, i think of what all of these purchases have to do with His birth. sure, we give gifts to celebrate His arrival, the sacrificial gift given to us so many years ago...but what do our gifts say about His gift? what am i giving this year that glorifies and honors His life changing gift to me? and im not suggesting we stop the gift giving. im simply giving more than a moments pause and thought to the idea that if all i do is give to those i love rather than those in need, perhaps i am missing the message of the greatest gift of all. surely He did not come to simply save us, but also to redeem us and change us. to bend our hearts toward loving, living and serving others with our whole lives, not simply in the fleeting thoughts of occasional compassion.

this Christmas will not be about me. about us. or about the amazing family and friends i am blessed to share life with. it will be an opportunity for my life to reflect my priorities with more than easily spoken words. my hope and prayer is that i am a good steward of the time and finances so generously given to me. that the way i spend the minutes of my life will accurately portray what i value most. faith. family. friends. others. clarity can be an elusive, beautiful and often times challenging thing, but always always worth the wait. merry Christmas.

thanks peach

2009-11-22T22:05:00.001-05:00

i can always count on georgia to lighten my mood. always. except between the hours of midnight and 6 am at which time my mood is on 'irritated' if im awake regardless of who you are. last week as a result of a routine check up at the eye doctors and not so routine appointment at the pediatricians office for 14 consecutive days of green snot, we were booked for both appointments with an hour and half between them. so doable, but not so much fun as i have become completely insane with the kids touching things in public places (i blame the media for my swine flu paranoia) and i have taken to hand sanitizing them at minute intervals in every waiting area imaginable. first up was the eye doctor where we were quickly ushered back from the waiting area with windows and armchairs (and finding nemo on the tv) into the dimly lit exam room with thousands of dollars of breakable eye equipment and one big chair that incidentally goes up and down if you dance around the pedals long enough. not a huge deal, we were after all the first appointment past the lunch hour (score!) and both kiddos are typically pretty awesome at this kind of thing. pretty awesome for awhile. not so awesome for an HOUR. no joke.

within the hour, we had successfully given the exam room an extreme kid makeover complete with 233 cheerios on the floor, an elmo phone, a sippy cup and several pacis, all of which i was picking up, wiping off and handing back to the bored lump while simultaneously trying to pick up the shower of cheerios and hide the evidence we had broken the absurd 'please no eating and drinking in exam room' rule. i was mildly distracted (read all but standing on my head to keep jack happy) when gk gets my attention with, 'mommy, the chair is way up high.' why yes it was. way up. as in i thought we may have broken it for a brief minute until gk showed me how to make it come down. apparently we had been in there long enough for her to learn the ropes on some of the equipment. im guessing a few more minutes and she could have given herself, jack and i all a thorough eye exam. so, an hour into it with me now sweating and swaying with the 25 lb jack in my arms while ripping open every fruit snack in my purse in an attempt to make all the eye crap seem less tempting to the peach, id had enough. as in...so sick of practicing my patience i could just about scream. and then i made a huge mistake. i opened the door. the one that they close immediately after putting you in there. the one that provides a layer of protection between you and them when youve had enough of the insane wait time. the one that offers an element of privacy and mystery while your left there to simply check your watch and count the minutes until you hear the footsteps finally stop outside your door and the chart finally get picked up and then...then the door knob turns and you are seen at last!! well...i opened the door. when my look of 'please help me, im dying in here with the little people' didnt get anyones attention, i started walking down the hall toward the waiting area. i had the appearance of someone just venturing off a deserted island where there was plenty to eat but the conditions were brutal. as we turned the corner into the bright shiny happy waiting area that now smelled like freedom, gk yelled, 'they have nemo out here!'. yes, gk, they do. but we have a really expensive chair that goes up and down...isnt that fun?

at this point there is no one heading my way with a life boat or cocktail and i reluctantly head back to the exam room where we happen to pass the good doctors office. where his door is open. where he is on the phone. scheduling a TEE TIME for the upcoming weekend. it is on. we get back to the cell and wait another five minutes until the doctor finally joins us. he was so chipper, probably imagining the fun hed have on the course in a few quick days while we on the other hand were now resembling survivors of some horrible experiment where they put you in a room full of germs and crap that could cost you money if you break it with little light and nothing to do with small children by yourself for over an hour. and for added fun, they add in loads of snot dripping from the children. nice. anywho i explain in the nicest tone i could find (which is always fast and unnaturally high pitched when im hiding my livid side) to the tiger woods wannabe that i would love to chat but we now had 15 minutes to make it to our next appointment to check on ear infections, pneumonia and other fun stuff. he kindly rushed through his exam, kept the dumb jokes to a minimum and assured us the peach is doing quite well. as he was turning to leave he tells gk 'goodbye' at which time she says, 'goodbye. now we're going to see the REAL doctor.' he mentions that he is in fact a doctor. she laughs. literally laughs and says, 'no, i mean the doctor doctor. the one who makes me feel better.' normally i would have corrected her. normally i would have fallen over myself with some witty explanation. not after an hour. nope. this time we just left it like that and headed toward freedom on the outside of the exam room.

the perfect time

2009-11-19T16:49:00.000-05:00

so ive been waiting for the perfect time to blog. to throw something out there that might let all 4 of you know at least one of the countless blog worthy experiences ive had over the last 6 weeks. let me know if you figure out when the perfect time is. as of right now, i have laundry in the dryer, laundry on my dining room table, a baby covered (its even in his ears) in pasta sauce and a 3 year old spinning in circles until she falls down (at which time she sheds a quick tear, grabs a boo boo buddy and begins the process over again...the intellectual curve is beginning to even out). from where im typing i can see no less than 3 dust bunnies, a to do list that now includes showering and a menu for thanksgiving that needs some tweeking. ive got $100 for the first person that can cross my living room floor without tripping, falling or slipping on any number of choking hazards laying around left by two very inquisitive children...who prefer taking EVERY item they own out first and THEN deciding which ones they dont want to play with...preferring instead to head butt furniture and empty kitchen cabinets. so the perfect time continues to elude me, one minute, one day and finally one month at a time.

and its not that i dont have something brilliant to share (although that information is unfortunately jammed between the song 'i know an old lady who swallowed a fly' and the adorable ring i noticed on the receptionist yesterday that i keep thinking ive seen somewhere before) its just the ongoing dilemma of finding the time and then of course finding the words to tell you about it. on a side note, i have no clue as to what the hell that old lady swallowed except for the fly and while that in and of itself shouldnt have killed her, georgia has been requesting (badgering, nagging, demanding) we discover every possible thing she could have swallowed. i suggested we start and end with an elephant...making for a sure death and quick song, but ive now heard her rattle off no less than 15 different objects that old lady could have swallowed. and i digress.

i once thought id write in the morning but unfortunately as one who cant even speak well before 10 and a pot of coffee, i quickly realized the coordination to type and or think is not accessible in the early hours. the truth is that now my eldest child has begun boycotting naps and my youngest has begun training as a professional wrestler (complete with diving leaps off of furniture and head butting his sister), ive needed to be on my A game when it comes to parenting during the waking hours. and then of course the night time rolls around and while i consider myself a night owl, im more of the owl that enjoys chilling on the branch relaxing rather than hunting around full speed in the sky.

so there hasnt been time and really i havent made time. the time i have has been spent loving on my little people. wiping noses, folding tiny clothes and soaking up as many crisp fall days at the park as possible. although, now that i know the high chair works to prevent injuries to the little one and really, how dangerous is spinning and falling...i may have a plan shaping up to carve out the perfect time.

ordinary us

2009-10-16T14:57:00.000-04:00

there will come a day when our kids, in spite of all our tall tales of life before them, will insist that we are fairly ordinary. memories of shark diving and sky diving will be part of our distant past and they will be forced to see us as parents. two people lucky enough to be sharing our days and years together, building a life moment by moment and doing our best to leave a legacy for the little people. there will be fun family trips and inside family jokes, but the truth is the vast majority of our lives will be lived in the ordinary way that all lives are, with memories and joy lying in the smallest of everyday moments. and what i want you to know more than anything is that after 11 years of we, in light of highs and lows and all that could be...i find you, wrapped up and caught up in the ordinary nothing shy of extraordinary. i am left simply overwhelmed by your abundant generosity, palpable sincerity and the film of kindness left on everything you touch.

you, extraordinary you, lead our family with love and integrity, faith and wisdom and a heart that continually puts us first. and we can never thank you enough or love you enough or tell you enough just how proud we are to be yours. how thankful we are that you, in the mundane rhythm of yesterday and today give us countless reasons to love you tomorrow. we are yours. and the ordinary is simply beautiful with you in it as you continually mold it with joy and love, kindness and respect. our minutes can be filled with chaos or peace, uncertainty or grief, but you, extraordinary you, always show up with confidence and faith wrapped in love. you protect and provide for us in a way that leaves me dumbfounded. and grateful. in the still of the morning as you leave quietly and i begin the quick drift back to sleep, i simply roll over and thank God for you. for a man that humbly serves his God, country and family with an unwavering commitment to putting others first. we are just 3 of the lucky others in an incredibly long and growing list. and so, in the dark and quiet of the morning, i smell the coffee you dont have time to drink but always brew for me nonetheless, and i raise up the most ordinary prayer of thanks to an amazing God who so graciously gave us extraordinary you.

why.

2009-09-25T21:08:00.000-04:00

i was told once a long time ago from some well intentioned holy rolling christian (the kind that had me seriously considering leaving church for awhile before i had a chat with God and He kindly assured me it really wasnt all about her and her types) where she, in her vast knowledge and perfect interpretations explained to me in the nicest of ways why we, as followers of Jesus, are not to ask God why He does what He does. i remember smiling politely and nodding my head all the while feeling a bit sheepish and guilty because i had asked God on countless occasions why.

why were nearly 3,000 innocent people allowed to die when a few crazy radicals thought it best to fly planes into buildings.

why didnt mr. woods from my home town blow his own head off before hunting down his wife and young children as they ran for their lives around their house while dodging the inevitable plan of death he had for them.

why the tsunami.

why are their children sold for sex for a few dollars to a multitude of sick bastards who are more than willing to pay.

why andrea yates.

why darfur.

why. why. why.

i have a million whys for God. something i read or hear or see on a daily basis has me asking Him why. He doesnt owe me an explanation or an answer. He doesnt even have to listen and truth be told i have far more questions than i have answers. i know of children in need of love. of orphans in need of parents. of kids caught up and tossed about and lost in a system that while full of great intentions is horribly broken. and i know of women who were born to be mothers, women who would make incredible mothers and if not for the overwhelming pain and heartbreak of not being able to conceive a child of their own would never meet the divine fork in the road where they, in their grief and longing for motherhood, would forever alter the life and future of a baby in desperate need of them and their love. children born of their hearts not of their wombs...most certainly after years of asking why.

and i mean no disrespect when out of disbelief i come to my Father and question Him. im not trying to fill the role of the right hand man, not trying to second guess Him in all His perfectness or imply He owes me an answer. i just cant imagine Him creating each of us with our sense of reason and logic and our minds full of natural curiosity only to ask us to spend our lives simply void of questions when it comes to what lies under His control (which is incidentally everything). my trust and faith in Him easily coexist with my questions of Him. much like georgia asking me if im going to catch her while she jumps, i can ask God 'why' while simultaneously trusting Him and His plans. i can have my faith shaken by the heartache and grief around me and be left grasping for answers and clinging to Him for the hope and peace i long to steady me. i have spent the better part of this week in a tailspin of questions for Him and while i have been honest and confused, fumbling for ways to articulate my bewilderment to Him, He has met me where i am and calmed me reassuring me once again that He is present. if God the Son, while fulfilling His purpose and having all of the answers can still cry out to His Father in immeasurable pain and ask why from the cross...certainly we, His children, when witnessing or consumed by our own suffering can ask the same of Him with the same certainty that He is listening with compassion and comfort in our time of need.

so i wonder. and i ask. and i wait for answers that usually never come or that i simply do not recognize or understand. what i do know without question is God is present and accounted for in every situation that gives me pause. sometimes Hes most visible in the midst of the storm, other times in the aftermath. but He is always there. so ill continue to love and to trust and to ask why, eagerly anticipating the day when we are face to face and all of the hope and all of the blessings that remained unseen to me in the living years are revealed.

the not so great outdoors

2009-09-11T21:22:00.000-04:00

let me start by admitting in complete and total honesty im a total poser when i appear to be enjoying myself in the great outdoors. i own northface and merrells. i can rock nothing but chapstick for a day or two and ive been known to take a shower with nothing but a few baby wipes, but i pretty much hate every second of it. its not my thing. sure, i have romanticized the crap out of the IDEA of camping...campfires, shooting stars, crisp mountain top sunrises with nothing but the birds keeping me company. the problem is the reality of it...bug bites, crappy coffee, a hard ground, gear to haul around like mules, limited wardrobe changes, non existent shower facilities (and let me just say right here for you crazy 'oh there are campgrounds with showers and bathrooms...i say boo to you...really? i know theyre not clean, and while running water may constitute a shower to you, i require a bit more, like steaming hot water, clean tiles and soap that smells good enough to snack on). and of course theres the beginning of time dilemma of where and how do you pooh in the woods...and why of course you cant pooh for days on a camping trip. ah yes. and tava, we cant all have fifth wheels. soooo, back to why camping sucks and more importantly why its on the brain tonight...

i once thought patrick and i should go camping and like all new ideas of mine, i got overly excited and eager about the accessorizing part. i spent loads of time researching tents, perusing up and down aisles everywhere from rei to target wondering what the perfect tent would look like for us. thank God i had the opportunity to go camping in a tee pee in aspen for a few days because i immediately realized that our perfect tent looked identical to a room at the hilton. there were porta potties (which are really just little caves i refer to as hell deterrents as i imagine hell is one big giant porta potty that everyone in hell has to use and spend all their time next to) and sleeping bags and of course baby wipes. it was a fabulous opportunity to spend time with amazing students and it saved patrick and i a boatload of money because if it wasnt for that trip we would be the proud owners of all things camp like and it would all be brand spankin new.

needless to say, our sweet kids will get their love of the outdoors from some other people which remain unknown to us at this current time because we pretty much roll with people like us. however, this week i did have a brief opportunity to share with georgia a camping experience. on our way home from running errands, i, in an attempt to reward some outstanding behavior suggested we travel to a new playground. one far from our house and in the woods. brilliant. we arrived at the hidden playground to find one mama watching over her 4 year old little boy climbing on the slide. georgia was thrilled, i was thrilled. fast forward 20 minutes into our excursion. other mama and i have made enough small talk that i know she is tired and relieved to have 2 of her 3 boys in school while monkey child hangs and swings from every piece of playground equipment. jack is happily swinging in the swing and the peach is enjoying the tunnel slide. all is well. at this time the peach mentions, 'mommy, i have to go potty'. i said, 'okay, no big deal. lets pack up and go home and i promise we can come back later today or another day.' to which my natural born used car salesman replies, 'actually, i really dont have to go.' fast forward 48 seconds....'mommy, actually, i have to go poop and i have to go right now.'

several things flashed through my mind and i was left with only one choice. i looked to the other mama and said something like, 'can you make sure no one takes my baby from the swing while i take my daughter to poop in the woods?' these are words i really never thought id utter and yet, here i was, leaving my infant in the care of a stranger to take my peach into the woods to poop. i hate camping. once in the woods, the ever inquisitive georgia asked, 'what do i do?' to which i answered, 'well, honey, you just poop. right here. under this lovely tree.' she looked at me like she was waiting for me to say just kidding. when i didnt, she said, 'well, i guess im fine with that.' so she pooped. and of course she wanted toilet paper. geez, georgia, right now toilet paper and some hand sanitizer would really make my day too, but what we have is a leaf, so here you go. double eww. at this point all i wanted was a hot shower in my clean bathroom with this whole disgusting experience behind me. so we headed back to the swings to find jack happily, obliviously swinging. he was laughing at us like, 'i get to poop on myself. its so much easier.' i thanked stranger lady profusely for preventing any abduction of the lump and we called it a day. and while im no camper, the peach may just be...on the way home i overheard her talking to her baby doll and it went something like this...'so, baby, one day when youre big like me, you can poop in the woods too. its really pretty cool.' ugh.

hodgepodge

2009-08-21T09:11:00.000-04:00

every now and then i have a few things to share...some isolated incidents that are worth mentioning. and while none of them on their own is worthy of an entire post, when combined, i think they just might be. first of all, i just spent a wonderful weekend in williamsburg, va with my 3 college roomies. i took away a few things from the 24 hours spent together drinking wine and reliving days that are further behind us than any of us would really like to admit. williamsburg really is a nice little city full of pancake houses and historical reenactments. woo. instead of getting our history swagger on, we opted for laser tag, a visit to the winery and a record trip down to a bar on the one hip strip in the burg. laser tag:: super fun. ive played before and had a great time, but this time was even more fun thanks to the group of 15 8 year old boys out for blood. at one point one of them yelled at me when i missed an open shot on my best friend (on the opposing side) by screaming, 'shes blue shes BLUE!!! this isnt boys against girls, lady, its red AGAINST BLUE!!'. awesome. gotta love that enthusiasm. at that moment i was relieved that we werent in real combat (hed clearly be way too trigger happy) and of course that i have a son who i hope to one day have running around with guns yelling at random strangers with the same adrenaline filled conviction.

also, i know williamsburg isnt that southern by southerners standards, but seriously...i have a suggestion for all of you southern drivers on the highway....are you listening? rain is not the same as ice and you are not driving sugar cubes. please stop flicking boogers on my happy place behind the wheel and proceed at the speed you were just lollygagging at prior to raindrops falling on your windshield. this is not dangerous. this is not reckless. it is actually keeping you safer because those of us just passing through are raging at your sudden braking over the precipitation.

after spending the afternoon and night at the winery, we were tired and thankful for malena, our rockstar server who not only gave us great service with free wine and cookies, but also safely delivered us all back to our hotel when our lame cabbie never showed. at this point we all wanted to put on fat pants and relax in our room. that would make sense. but like a group of convicts just escaped from prison, we didnt want to waste even a minute of our precious freedom. so we boarded the bus to abilene, called another cab and ventured downtown with some nice turkish driver from istanbul here on a student visa at william & mary. i know you dont care, but being the big loser that i am, and having just watched patrick spend an entire year working on his thesis on muslim extremists, i was actually really curious to know what this guy thought of the terror threats abroad, specifically the extremist views in his home country of turkey. thank goodness i had a fleeting moment of situational awareness and simply shut up and color. i find it thoroughly amusing that my situational awareness on my girls night out now keeps me from chatting up the cab driver with current topics as opposed to other things. lets just say we've come a long long way.

once comfortably seated on high barstools created for the arse of a 12 year old, we promptly ordered waters and some bar food. this began the 30 minute litany of complaints and criticisms of our server by each of us. he was rude, rushed, didnt make small talk and rarely visited our table. hmmm. after a brief moment of clarity it occured to me it could be because we are at a BAR....ordering WATER....with a server who is serving, bartending and probably trying to pick up the table of COLLEGE chicks over there. im going to go out on a flimsy limb here, but i think we could finally be moving beyond this stage of our life at last. i mean really, when our topic of conversation at a bar revolves solely around our crappy service, we may be out of our zone. so we ate our crappy food, drank our tap water and called mr. istanbul to pick us up. home sweet home by 11, just in time to catch 9 hours of sleep before hitting a pancake house. an altogether great weekend with the best of friends. and no rain on the way home. perfect.

7 am

2009-08-07T07:53:00.000-04:00

patrick made coffee this morning as he has done countless mornings before. its not that im incapable (i did make it yesterday with jack on my hip, trying to feed him a bottle with one hand without dropping the holy grail of brew with the other), its just that its hard to make coffee when i havent had any yet. my judgment is blurred, my reflexes nonexistent, my ability to speak temporarily unavailable. yesterday was a perfect example...who really tries to hold a baby and a bottle in one hand and a huge pot of coffee in the other?? someone who is clearly not yet awake and is in desperate need of the bean, willing to risk dropping the baby or the coffee in a crazy attempt at multi tasking. my sister in law lisa, (who btw is full of valuable tidbits and insights that you actually WANT to hear) once wisely summed up new parenthood as not really that difficult. i mean really, how hard is it to keep a newborn (lets throw in colic free) baby happy? its not. but doing it with 2-4 hours of sleep...thats hard. im figuring out slowly but surely its always the factor you didnt think of that makes tasks the most challenging. like navigating your way via taxi with a significant language barrier between you and cabbie. and in my case and my days as of late, its the fatigue factor.

im blaming most of my fatigue on georgia who continues to summon us to her room at all hours of the night for the most obscure reasons. a few nights back she, in a rare switch that had me smiling, called for her DADDY at the top of her lungs. when he got to her room, he immediately scolded her, 'georgia, why are you yelling like that??' to which she replied, '2 things, daddy. 1, i love you. 2, could you please put my blankie back on me?' good thing hed done his stretches that day, otherwise it would have been difficult for him to wrap himself entirely around her little finger. im also blaming shark week on the discovery channel which i cannot seem to pull myself away from regardless of the predictability (of course the guy talking on camera didnt get eaten by a great white shark unless hes giving the interview in the afterlife) or the hour to which it lasts (most recently to midnight).

and ive always been a night person, able and eager to spin my wheels at all hours of the night but im realizing as of late that the little people have not only their dads amazing blue eyes but his inexplicable internal alarm clock as well. and this, in a horrifyingly unfair twist of fate, has my night owl self being beat down by the morning people in the house. i have always reserved early mornings for God and birds, neither of which needed my attention during those sleeping hours. but now...well, now theres God and birds and children, who incidentally do need my attention at all hours. so im thankful that some sleepy ancient incans or mayans or egyptians or some other 'ans' discovered the magical bean and then had the idea to grind it up, heat it up and drink it. i imagine with so few interesting things going on back then and so few tasty beverage choices, they really persevered with the coffee idea. and im so glad they did. and that while my husband is annoyingly chipper in the morning, hes also wonderfully capable and willing to brew the best pot of pure joy imaginable. im off to refill.

save second base

2009-07-22T08:20:00.000-04:00

so this is one of my best friends, amy and i on the morning of the race for the cure. she is easily the most highly motivated person i know, always up for challenging herself and more than willing to find a few ways to challenge those around her (fortunately, not in that annoyingly overzealous way like richard simmons). years ago amy and suzy (who im sure ive mentioned on here before) ran a race in honor of my beautiful mama and her victory over breast cancer. since that time patrick has run one as well and yet, i, being reluctant to take on any real commitment to fitness in my life continued to watch the races come and go, reminding me just how much i wanted to participate, but never actually doing it. with my new goals in place i figured this was the year to finally run the race for the cure. its now been 13 years since my mom completed her last chemo treatment and the race was long overdue. this became THE year when amys amazing mother was diagnosed and began bravely battling breast cancer as well.

i cant help but feel like my moms cancer was a defining moment in my own life. At 18 in my first year of college while happily occupying the center of my own universe, i remember feeling invincible one minute and gripped with an all consuming fear the next. i attempted to make incredible deals with an incredible God always under the guise of 'if only You will take this from her, i will do (insert completely outlandish and impossible promise)'. at the time i remember feeling completely out of control and desperate, unable to shake the reality that there was absolutely nothing i could do to shape or shift the outcome of this reckless, indifferent and unsympathetic opponent. in an instant, i became the smallest and weakest person i knew on my knees begging God to just listen to me. to simply hear my cries and feel my overwhelming need for more time with my best friend. fortunately for me, who had laid out every possible promise to live an altogether perfect life rivaling that of mother theresa, in order to have my mothers life spared, God isnt really into deals. what He gives and what He takes away is not determined by my ability to emphatically beg, plead and promise.

after months of recovery, chemo and sickness, the prayers of anyone and everyone who has ever met my mother were answered and she was still with us. there will always be life before cancer and life after cancer in my mind. it completely shifted the terms in which i view life, the sacredness and joy of it as well as the potential brevity and injustice of it. before cancer i knew my mother was beautiful and kind, warm and patient, gentle and loving. i knew she embodied contentment and joy and had given me a glimpse into the kind of mother i hoped to be someday. after cancer i learned that in addition to what i knew to be true of her before, that she was also the strongest person i had ever known. and brave. and courageous. and hopeful and faithfilled and optimistic and unbelievably grateful. i remember her calming my fears and attempting to steady a foundation that i could feel shaking under me by reassuring me that 'if this cancer was the most challenging thing we ever faced as a family we were incredibly blessed.' and that the same God who was in control yesterday when life was cancer free is the same God in control today battling with us. these words and the loving wisdom that poured freely from them gave my weak and trembling soul hope. the kind of hope that was able to sustain me as i watched the chemo wreak havoc on her already sick body. the kind of hope that comforted me in the quiet moments of solitude when the tangible feeling of doubt surrounded me. she has always painted the future with broad strokes of hope and it is what i believe kept all of us looking ahead with the same optimism and faith in spite of the difficult journey.

it was during her months of chemotherapy that i began to see another hero emerge in my life. my father had always been brave and strong, honorable and wise, a man with conviction and integrity. and yet as i watched him stand along side her, sometimes with the strength of his love and commitment holding her up, i began to witness a love and adoration i didnt know could exist. i saw what for better or worse looked like, what in sickness and in health could mean. it was painful and exhausting, its toll brutal and yet, it was and is the most beautiful love i have ever seen. my parents get commitment and i am eternally grateful for the living example of it and for the profound impact it has left on my life and the legacy that will be passed on and on. and i wouldnt wish this disease on anyone. i would fall to me knees in an instant in prayers for you and yours to overcome this ugly threat and yet, it was through this unbearable disease that i came to see the entirety of the two most amazing people in the world, each possessing the strengths of the other and trusting in the same power of the same God regardless of the day.

so i ran. and ran. and ran. for you, mom. and for you, debby. and ill run again...to save second base, to save the ta tas, to find a cure and to hopefully spread hope in the meantime as i run in honor of you, mom, with your name proudly on my back.

duck duck goose

2009-07-17T09:23:00.000-04:00

we are officially at the beach in duck, north carolina and after my first night of uninterrupted sleep i am feeling downright grand. ive heard that you are either a mountain person or an ocean person, a division so clear and easy to recognize it rivals the over or under camps of toilet paper rolls. and while i do know a few people who clearly fall into the mountain side of things, loving the hikes, the peaks and the views and then of course the beach freaks who long for the sand, surf and sound of the waves....i have to admit i feel like i have one foot firmly planted on both sides of this fence (no surprise to those of you who know my gemini split personality). i remember traveling through new zealand and feeling like God must have been showing off when He created the mountain ranges there and having the same feeling of wonder when i stood at an overlook in kaui gazing at the na'pali coast. it was the same feeling of awe and amazement. im fortunate to have had that feeling many times...patrick and i spent the first 5 years of 'we' traveling our tails off to as many awe inspiring places as possible finding heaven while diving the great barrier reef and in the views we took in skydiving over oahu's north shore.

but what im realizing most about my love affair with both sun and sky is that as hard as i may try to claim a strong affiliation with one, i simply cant betray the great love i have for the other. and i dont really want to. we spent some time at glacier national park a few years ago and extended our visit to check out realty in the area. i suggested that as much as we loved it there and as excited as pat was to buy our forever land, we might want to visit it in december just to make sure. needless to say, visiting montana in december doesnt have the same allure as it does in july and we have yet to return. theres also the element of height and our shared phobia that appeared while traveling on the road to the sun...pats white knuckles and inability to speak in complete sentences paired perfectly with my shortness of breath and verbal petitions to God to please keep us from falling off the edge. super fun. and yet, when we arrived at the top (with anxiety attacks behind us), we were ready to buy land and stay forever. the view and feeling of wonder was all consuming. i didnt even want to share it with a camera lens...i didnt want to squint one eye for even a moment and crowd the landscape in front of me. it was and is one of the most spectacular places in the world and i long for the day we can visit again.

but as much as i love the mountains, i could curl up next to the sound of waves and only be moved by the changing tide. i fell deeply in love with the half of the world that lives and thrives mostly in secret underwater when we started diving. i am completely captivated by the ocean, effortlessly drawn into the rhythm of the waves and wrapped in the warmth of the sun. i have freckles marking all of my dates with the ocean, one by one reminding me of time spent in its familiar company. they are evidence of times shared and memories made in the presence of one of my greatest loves. and so the beach beckons and i, eager to create more memories that will not fade over time, answer. only this time, the 'we' is much grander and much greater than before.

decisions decisions

2009-07-09T13:05:00.000-04:00

let me throw out this quick disclaimer...after a month of craziness (busy in a good way) i have had zero time to blog. when i finally did squeeze in a few minutes my flippin blog deleted my post as i was posting it. therefore, as this is my second go at this post, there may some additional cynicism accompanying it. i am bitter to say the least that i lost my first post when spare time is the hottest and rarest commodity in my life right now. that being said, i recently had a big decision to make...one that had me weighing pros and cons, doing quick checks of the finances and discussing time management (or my lack there of) with patrick. i was weighing the option of hiring a housekeeper (how i long for korea days with ms.hong drying my jeans on high heat and waking gk with the unbelievably LOUD noise of the plastic bag that carried her dust rags), joining a massage club (a little weird and self indulgent, but SO tempting after gamal, the wonder egyptian gave me a fab massage recently) and finally a gym membership. what i wanted most was a couple of hours a month with gamal....where i wouldnt be thinking of the laundry that needed to be done or the muscle buried far below the layers of flub gamal was massaging. ive decided to work my way backwards...starting with the fat and working my way to the housekeeper and finally the reward of a massage club someday. however, in order for me to fully embrace the gym membership, i had to come to terms with several key issues and move beyond them.

i am certifiable when it comes to working out and dieting. i admit it. it has been a cycle of sorts over the course of the last 15 years that has drug me through bouts of self loathing and tendencies toward the extreme. of course 15 years ago i was trying to be a size 2-4...that would now only be achievable if i were willing to have one leg amputated and wear the size 2 jeans on my remaining limb and even those better be stretch denim. i realized in a moment of rare clarity that i have to completely change my perspective on the entire way ive been approaching this aspect of my life. for the life of me i cannot understand why being content with my body is so damn elusive...i am truly content in every other venue of my life with the exception of this. i find it horribly arrogant and self centered to focus on it and let it (with it being so trivial in the vast scope of life) occupy as many thoughts as it does and yet, its a struggle. part of my issue is how i have always viewed exercise...it has ALWAYS been a means to an end. always. for a dress, for a boy, for a bikini, for a vacation...you name it, if its shallow, its been a great motivator for yours truly. the problem with this (okay...many problems) is that once said shallow event or relationship has passed, i go back to slugging my way through life and relying only on occasional adjustments in diet to drop the pounds. that being confessed, this is my new mantra...at least its the one i am trying to convince myself of when i feel those self loathing thoughts come up.

i will choose to view exercise as a blessing...how lucky am i to be healthy enough to work out?? there are SO many people who would love to have the opportunity to run but are unable to for a variety of reasons. and my reasons are the lamest of lames....dont feel like it, too tired, choose to not make the time, dont feel like washing my hair today...the list goes on and on. the second part of my mantra is that regardless of the results (how timely or not) i will do this for a year. with the goal of five times a week. ugh. all this being said the most important part of working out is the wardrobe. so i bought new clothes to make myself look like im a worker outer even though my out of breathness will sell me out within a few minutes. i dont need to buy new running shoes because the ones i bought 4 years ago have conveniently only been worn a handful of times for marathons...of the shopping sort.

once the big decision was made, the new threads were ready and my new mantra was playing in my head, i decided i needed to seek some professional help (read someone to hold me accountable and force me to show up). so i met with the super fit fitness manager who discussed with me a few concepts...the first being that this would take sometime and the second being that it would be hard work. great. my two least favorite things. he insisted on setting goals (something i typically resist doing...like i really need tangible benchmarks to fail at) with the short term goal of fitting into a closet full of clothes (even while knowing that once i fit into all of them again, i will still continue to rotate between black and white crews and jeans i cant remember washing) and the long term goal of making this part of my life a habit. so i signed up for a race, hired kathy the wonder trainer and got to work. once super fit fitness guy had assessed my goals and mental health he matched kathy and i up. she has assured me that over time, a lot of people experience a runners high...im beginning to think she may have a drug problem herself.

with lots of progress to be made, kathy and i began the death march toward health and fitness. she is fabulous, really and very knowledgeable with a wide stocked arsenal of pain inducing moves. ive seen her smile once and i believe with enough time i could squeeze a laugh out of her, but what shes really a master at is carrying an entire conversation on her own. similar to a dentist chatting you up with your mouth pried open, kathy can hold down an entire conversation while i simply sweat and catch my breath wondering the entire time how she can really talk and keep track of reps at the same time. its very impressive to say the least and a skill that im sure only comes after years of watching countless victims struggle to talk while completely distracted by the fire that is racing through every muscle in their body. i dont think i can recall any part of any conversation we have ever had...and we've been meeting for 5 weeks. its not that im uninterested, im just a wee bit preoccupied with the level of concentration i have to simply not fall over and quit breathing. yep, its been fun.

so, im on my way. im running 20-30 miles a week and lifting a few times as well to try and build that muscle that will hopefully be unveiled at a later date when the cardio has done its job. there will be more on this to follow...like how ive chased those unruly exercise balls all over the mats or how ive memorized the exact location of the emergency stop button on the treadmill.

hookers

2009-06-10T17:07:00.000-04:00

let me assure you my next post will have nothing to do with the little people...it will most certainly be about my recent decision to pay to have my arse kicked on a regular basis....yes, i have in fact hired a personal trainer and have been unable to brush my teeth since our first workout. the perk is that it is also difficult to get the spoon full of dublin mudslide ice cream to my mouth as well.

however, as anxious as i am to share my riveting and painful gym experience with you, today i have to tell you the position i found myself in just a few short hours ago. three days ago, while playing with jack, georgia informed me that the plastic clips that hook toys on strollers, carseats and trays are in fact called, hookers. i found this pretty funny as any mother easily entertained by her 3 year old would but didnt think much more about it.

but, today, at the eye doctors (gold star for anyone who knows what theyre called AND can accurately spell it) georgia mentioned to the kind doc that her brother likes hookers. yep. AND that he shares them with her because (of course) hes a good sharer. sure, this is amusing. this is entertaining off the cuff at its finest, but she saved the best for last when she blurted out, 'yep, when i lay all the hookers out on the blanket, my brother loves playing with them.'

the doctor mentioned he thought he could finally retire as he had in fact finally heard everything. nice. thanks gk....the smiles never end and we are eternally grateful for every last one of them.

true

2009-06-04T13:04:00.000-04:00

real faith in action is helping

those who cannot help you back.

something shiny

2009-06-04T09:29:00.001-04:00

i knew this day was coming. it had to with my overly inquisitive wicked smart 3 year old who spends her sleepless nights dreaming up questions that i dont have answers to only to watch me grasp at words that arent there as i try and satisfy her curiosity. she has started noticing pictures around the house that she isnt in...baffling im sure for her as she comes to terms with the reality that as hard as it may be to imagine, there was life before gk. the other evening she noticed a picture of patrick and i in italy. she immediately came to discuss it with me...it went like this...

gk: did you take me to italy with you?

me: no, sweetie, you weren't born yet.

gk: where was i?

me: remember how before jack was here it was just the 3 of us? well, its because God was making him in heaven. thats where you were when we were in italy. God was busy making you in heaven, knowing one day He would give you to us.

gk: oh. and then He gave me to you.

me: yes.

gk: how?

me: He put you in my tummy to grow just like jack.

gk: silence.

me: feeling pretty awesome at the ease of this conversation and a bit overly confident that her question had in fact been answered to her level of satisfaction.

gk: mommy, if God is all the way in heaven, how did He actually put me in your tummy?

me: hmmm. thats a great question. do you want some ice cream?

gk: sure!

and that concluded our talk. i never thought id be that person that avoided the tough questions, but here i am offering anything to buy me more time and better answers.

memday

2009-05-25T20:39:00.000-04:00

this weekend has been a complete and total blur. we have been swept up in a frenzy of activity that has given us time with friends for dinner, weddings with a reception floating down the potomac at sunset (yes, it did not suck), a korea reunion bbq (really just a time for a bunch of us living in the area to come together and recap our time in korea...unanimously agreeing on 2 things...smelled like sewage and had great opportunities for retail therapy) and of course some family time. i havent until this moment had the time to even think about this day. this one small day that gives us a 3 day weekend and 4 day work week. a day that inevitably gives millions of people a reason to come together and grill out. grab a boat and head to the lake. sip margaritas and sleep in one extra day or catch up on yard work and chillax with the family. im a fan of 3 day weekends and of holidays in general. i love the extra time allowed for relaxing (or not) with family and friends. but, theres a part of me that longs to just sit and reflect on this day. this day that means so much to so many. it is a day of great significance. a day to remember and memorialize the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice in serving our country and helping so many others along the way.

today, while we were surrounded with great friends and fabulous food, where the laughter of kids on a slip and slide permeated the air around us, there was a family laying their 26 year old daughter to rest in st. louis. she was tragically killed in afghanistan this past week, a young woman courageously leading her troops in the midst of loneliness and danger. we only know of her story because she was stationed with patricks brother in hawaii and he had the privilege of working with her. her sacrifice (like the sacrifice of most) went largely unnoticed by the vast majority of the country. im not implying that we as a nation should know the names and stories of all of these heroes, i just wish we would thank them appropriately for their sacrifice. a parade will not soothe the pain of the loved ones left behind, a folded flag will not comfort the half of the heart now alone, kind words from a grateful nation will not heal the wounds of a child longing for one more moment with their dad. but, we can simply remember. we can choose to not forget that while we exist minute to minute consumed by nothing more than our own existence, there are people bravely giving their lives for strangers just as thousands of men and women have done before them. it is awe inspiring. i am completely captivated by their stories and cant help but feel honored to even live in a country that produces these kinds of men and women.

when my dad was here visiting last month we made our way to the vietnam wall and then to the korean war memorial. we spent some time in a light rain on a gray day waiting for my dad to find the names of friends he had lost during his tour in vietnam. we listened closely as he retold a story i had never heard about men ive never known with families ive never met. i could barely breathe as i imagined my hero as a young man leaving my mom behind to face the most difficult of circumstances a world away. i know of no greater man than my dad. he possesses a bold courage, an unwavering integrity, an unabashed love for my mom, his family, his God and his country. he is everything i think of when i think of the word hero. he is the kind of man who is such a natural leader that he instinctively makes others better when they are around him. we took pictures of the korean war memorial to send to my grandfather who left my grandma for years to serve his country. i realized as i was snapping pics and preparing a note to send with them that i had never thanked him. i thank the lady who bags my groceries, the guy holding the door at the bank, the pharmacist filling my script, but id never thanked this man who gave so much. so, we did. gk drew a picture and i finally after all these years thanked him for serving his country with honor and for leaving a legacy of service for my dad to follow. i realized that for all the years id spent focusing on his shortcomings, id completely overlooked the fact that he had a huge hand in raising the greatest man ive ever known and id never thanked him for any of it. ive been so horribly short sighted and overly critical that i failed to ever recognize that my dad is my hero not in spite of my grandfather, but because of him. i am so thankful that God, in His mercy and goodness let me thank him now in the living years for his service and sacrifice.

so i dont know what to do with this 3 day weekend, this bonus day after sunday to fill up with additional social commitments, but i do know that at the end of this day i am simply left remembering and reflecting and realizing how unbelievably thankful i am for the thousands who have given so much. and to my dad...you cannot possibly know the depth of my gratitude, love and respect. thank you for your service and your friendship.

SHIaTsu

2009-05-15T14:17:00.000-04:00

i know ive been lazy and neglecting the blog...its not for lack of want or material, its merely a lack of time issue. the precious minutes that i usually carve out for my therapy on this site have been spent reading (how ive missed it!!) and napping (which btw has become so rare, im not even that good at it anymore). however, this week we were able to sneak down for a quick visit with good friends who happen to live in a colonial paradise just outside of williamsburg. we thought we would cram in one final trip before they move south to alabama in a few short weeks. how quickly and easily i forget the fun and convenience of guests who choose to visit right at the peak of a stressful move...yes, i have become that friend.

within the hour we arrived, gk managed to lose the battle with her top button and pee right next to the toilet while jack peed through his diaper for the first time in months. finally after getting the little people bathed and quietly in bed (no small feat when they are sharing a room and the oldest is convinced that no bedtime routine is complete without a minimum of 10 questions and the little one is desperately trying to cut his first teeth) i came downstairs to see patrick enjoying a relaxing conversation, glass of wine and none other than a brookstone shiatsu massager on his back. (this is not to imply he wasnt helpful...he had just beat me back downstairs by a mere 5 minutes and while i was amazed at how quickly he managed to assume the 'happy and relaxed' position, i knew that with the same determination i, too, could achieve the same euphoria within moments).

once the shiatsu massager was available (guilted from his hands no less) i positioned it right between my shoulder blades and located the on switch. let the stress melt away and the relaxation begin. listen, this thing is no substitute for a great massage, but the two round balls applying strong pressure in a circular motion on my shoulders was pretty darn nice. for almost 2 whole minutes. this would be a good time to mention that im growing my hair out for locks of love...it is annoyingly long...even longer than usual and while im tempted on a daily basis to cut it myself, i am committed to doing this locks thing with a close friend whose mama is battling breast cancer these days.

so just as i was beginning to enjoy this shoulder massage i felt a slight tug on my hair. the slight tug grew into a strong pull and within seconds my hair was being wrapped around the balls of the massager. i yelled S***...how do you turn this thing off?? patrick, all relaxed and what not, jumped over to where i was and attempted to locate the off switch. thankfully, he momentarily did before accidentally pushing it too far which merely changed the direction of the rotation. at this point my hair was wrapped so tightly around the balls that they were at my scalp and i was straight up panicked. jason (co owner of the torture device) ran over and turned it off. i had not been this relaxed since the moment before my epidural took effect and i began to wonder if i was going to be cutting my hair off at the scalp. this would be another good time to mention that rayna, (primary owner of torture device) is an incredible photographer who so kindly was planning on shooting some family pics the following day. perfect. newly shaven head just 15 hours before professional pics. jason began to try and extract mangled mane while i lay still with shiatsu massage securely attached to my head. are you kidding me?? who does this kind of crap really happen to? pat assisted with 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and 'oh crap, katie, that looks really bad' while jason continued to try and extract all 16 inches of hair from this thing that i now felt had actually attempted to take my life and could only get to my hair.

jason suggested we try and disassemble the killer balls and set my thoroughly relaxed self free. with a little gentle pulling (similar to some beach tug of war) the balls were removed and i was FREE. i was a tangled and tense mess, but i was at least finally separate from the device that moments earlier had made a noteworthy attempt on my life. within a couple of minutes i, too, was in possession of a glass of wine enjoying a fabulous conversation that consisted of no less than five references to how thankful i was to be free of the shiatsu massager. jason, thank you again for saving my life.

q & a

2009-04-23T14:35:00.000-04:00

so about 10 years ago while happily and blissfully (and completely naively) engaged, i asked my beloved fiance if he believed in the concept of having a soul mate...one true love in the world...blah blah blah. pat looked at me and said definitively without even a moments hesitation, 'no'. NO?? what?? you cant think that way, can you?? he followed up my immature outrage with, 'i think its a ridiculous idea and pretty stupid. how do you account for people being married more than once or a widow who finds love again?' he then continued on, 'katie, please dont ask me honest questions that you dont want honest answers to'. (insert awkward silence while i pouted and processed the truth in love that had just been thrown at me). however, in the past decade, not only have i come to completely agree with him (its amazing the clarity a little life experience and age can give you and seriously...of course there is more than one person out there to love), but from that day on i have never asked questions i wasnt prepared to have honest answers to. and let me just tell you there have been some shockers. some answers i wasnt prepared for because they werent the answers i was expecting, but nonetheless, i have tried not to criticize someone for simply answering something i have thrown out there. fast forward to the miss usa pageant that i proudly didnt even know was happening (its hard to keep up with the beauty queen thing when i myself am knee deep in pageant drama of my own kind with miss georgia) but keeping up with the headlines, i became familiar with at least the most interesting portion of the night when miss california answered a gay marriage question thrown out there by none other than perez hilton. i was outraged by the back lash she received for simply giving her honest answer to an honest question. when i came across the following commentary on cnn (by someone i dont necessarily love, but enjoy reading from time to time) i felt like he was spot on in his assessment and that it was worth sharing...a first for me on the blog.

By Roland S. MartinCNN Contributor

(CNN) -- A lot of folks are always saying they like to keep it real, that they want authenticity and straight talk. Yet when someone actually does it, there is hell to pay.
Welcome to the world of Miss California, Carrie Prejean, who, since she answered a question regarding same-sex marriage in Sunday's Miss USA pageant, has been savagely attacked by those who oppose what she had to say.
Leading the burn-her-at-the-stake parade is media opportunist Perez Hilton, the self-described gossip queen, and the individual who kick-started this controversy by asking the initial question as to whether the issue of same-sex marriage should be left up to the states.
It seems that Hilton, who is gay, was none too pleased that Prejean chose to actually give her personal opinion on the issue, and ripped her on his blog after the show, using crude obscenities as he continued to attack her at every turn on his media blitz.
Hey, Hilton, from a real journalist to a wanna-be who traffics in gossip: Never ask a question if you're unprepared for the answer!
Frankly, this whole story is pretty stupid. Isn't the whole point of asking a question to get someone's true feelings, rather than the plastic and superficial answers we are all used to receiving?
Sure, Prejean could have gone the safe route and given one of those answers that reveal nothing and is hard to decipher -- you know, the ones politicians give all the time -- but no! She actually gave her real opinion, and is now being torn to shreds for it.
She opposes same-sex marriage. OK, fine. So what if she had said, "Hey, I'm in full support of same-sex marriage." Would she now be celebrated on gay-focused blogs, magazines and Web sites? Would her detractors actually be saying how open she is and that she's a great person?
Same-sex marriage is undoubtedly a hot button issue. And being from California, the site of Proposition 8, the ballot initiative that voters approved outlawing same-sex marriage, Prejean has surely had to hear the debate go back and forth. But her remark isn't outside the mainstream. A CNN/Opinion Research Corp. poll shows that 55 percent of Americans are against same-sex marriage, and Proposition 8 did pass in her state 52-48 percent. iReport.com: Prejean 'should step down'
What's interesting about this is that many of the same folks who are slamming her for her remark voted for President Obama and Vice President Joe Biden, who both have the same belief: that marriage should be between a man and a woman.
Even Secretary of State Hillary Clinton made it clear that she has the same view, and it was her husband, President Bill Clinton, who signed the In Defense of Marriage Act, the federal law that forbids states from having to recognize gay marriage in other states.
In other words, four of the biggest liberals in the country have the same belief as Prejean, but a beauty pageant winner is being torn to shreds. Hello, hypocrisy!
Those who criticize Prejean have the same right as she does to express their viewpoints. But enough with all the political correctness, where someone says she should have danced around the issue, smiled and move on. iReport.com: 'Thank you, California!'
At the end of the day, we all have to be true to ourselves. Whether it's a gay gossip writer who favors same-sex marriage or a heterosexual woman who is against same-sex marriage. The day we condemn folks for speaking honestly is the day we become a bland society.
Maybe we're already there.

choose them

2009-04-21T14:58:00.000-04:00

i am saying this in love. in truth. in a moment where i have more compassion than i think i should and more concern than i thought i could. you are simply put and without hesitation, wrong. you are missing the boat and not just some small, flimsy, worthless dingy, but the aircraft carrier type. the type that moves so slowly and so steadily, so massively carrying the most precious of cargo, that for you to be missing it, your vision has to be so thoroughly clouded that you are completely blinded to what lies on your horizon. how can you miss this? how can you not see what is off in the distance and right in front of you? are you this consumed with you??

being a mother is so much more than mothering your children. i only know this because i have failed miserably on multiple occasions. patrick and i have journeyed down streets of indifference, drowned in seas of hurt and forgiveness and all the while believing the lies we told ourselves. the lies that convince you of the paramount importance of work, the inability to achieve success without sacrificing your family. the lies that tell you mothering is only about your children, meeting their needs for love and affection. for meals and fun. and while providing for your family is critical and caring for your little ones imperative, meeting their basic needs includes meeting their fundamental need for a family of stability. a home with love and support for the day, the week, the month and the next 50 years. to believe that you are taking care of your children while neglecting the vital relationship you have with their father is understandable. and forgivable...thank God. but its wrong. they deserve more. they deserve honesty and forgiveness and work. the kind of work that is exhausting, overwhelming and discouraging. it may seem impossible to repair and reconnect, but thats what you owe, yes i said owe, your children. you are running up a bill so alarmingly high that they will be left to pay. the ones who have nothing to do with you or the marriage they were brought into. born, without their consent out of a deep, real beautiful love i might add.

it does not matter how deep the wounds or how wide the chasm between how you feel today and how you used to feel is. it does not matter the weight of the hurts buried deep and the ones lying fresh on the surface, reminding you how angry and sad you are. there is plenty of disillusionment to go around, you dont own the rights to all of it. but to fail at this, this God given union, with God given children, to simply crawl away into a new life, an easier one (so you think) is failing them. you know, the ones that have done nothing wrong. and you may have convinced yourself of your justification for this and you may have lobbied really strong arguments to all that youve shared them with, but time has a way of bringing truth into the brightest of lights and while a jury of your peers may loudly side with you, there are little people who will one day be big people who will ask you why. why you gave up. gave in and let their dreams of happily flawed, but steadfastly committed ever after go.

what will you say to them? what will you try to tell them? and more importantly, when they have asked others the same question, what do you think the answers will be? what will they believe? your marriage is worth more than you realize and your children are worth whatever it takes. and it will take more than you have. it will cost you more than you realize but it will be the greatest gift you will ever give them. they havent asked for it, because they dont know its in jeopardy. but if they could, they would. they would beg and plead and pray that the choice between the life you have and the life that beckons would be an easy one to make. choose them. choose them. choose them.

hmmm

2009-04-16T17:04:00.000-04:00

believe people when they show you who they are
the first time.
~maya angelou

road trip

2009-04-14T16:28:00.001-04:00

i have about a gazillion posts in my head right now which is a pleasant switch from the usual ideas that center solely around thoughts of 'did you remember to wash your hands?', 'remember not too many wet kisses for your brother', 'please stop calling for me. i cant hear you because i am in the shower and the door is locked. please stop trying to break in. mommy only needs 4 minutes and i will buy you a pony if you step away from the door NOW', and so on. but, at this moment in time there are a gazillion. yep. that many. i have thoughts from good friday (which i again refused patricks suggestion to watch the passion every year as a tradition), thoughts (and pics!) from easter (still my fave holiday just ahead of fireworks on the 4th) and of course a few highlights from our 17 hour road trip cross country. if my family has EVER doubted my love for them across the miles, they neednt look any further than me hopping (oh so effortlessly) back and forth from front seat to back 432 times to pump and feed (no time to stop and nurse...nope, we have best times to create and then try and beat on the return trip), snacks to open, dvds to switch, toys to retrieve, water to refill, pacis to locate, babies to change (on the console no less...we are hard core), and of course the repeated explanations of why it takes soooo long to drive to missouri.

the best part of the early hours had to be the conversation that took place less than a mile from our house as we exited our development.

me: pat, so, how are we going to get there?
pat: i have 3 different options based on mapquest, trip planner and garmin.
me: great. so we have 3 different choices? which one are we using?

gk: dont forget we could also go on a plane. thats a choice too.

me: thats right, peach. and i can tell you already, that is how we will go next time. promise.

a few memorable moments::

everything you hear about west virginia is true. we stopped for 7 minutes to refill on gas and let the peach pee and im telling you, its just as you would imagine. the bathroom was a one stall type of thing with a sink right outside. it was a pretty small space, so imagine my surprise when we exit to find 4 very interesting grown women waiting in the 2 square feet of space outside the stall. it was so bizarre how they were all crowded on top of each other just waiting and watching us as we left, not even pretending to not be staring. i cant do the whole experience justice except to say it reminded me of twin peaks. enough said. what people somehow always fail to mention among the no teeth, weird mountain families comments, is that it happens to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. okay, country. fine, eastern part of the country (since colorado and montana are in the u.s.). still, a gorgeous place to drive through if youre not required to spend the night there.

kentucky is where i belong. i think. or colorado. but if i cant have colorado, ill take kentucky. the most spectacular green hills dotted with beautiful farms and pastures with more horses than i could count. it made 64 not seem as long as we drove past mile after mile of katie heaven.

fill up before you get to east st. louis so you dont have to fill up there. or make sure youre participating in the 'conceal and carry' law.

jack in the box is just as disgusting as it was when i had it in the middle of the night in hawaii 6 years ago. only worse because it was daylight and i was really really hungry and hadnt been drinking or dieting.

georgia and i could both happily substitute animal crackers (whatever, theyre still cookies), cheeze its, and fruit snacks for all three meals. everyday. i think.

jack is a rock star. he only left his car seat once in 8 hours at which time he grabbed and dumped the tray of food at jack in the box. its almost as if i could hear him saying 'you leave me buckled in a straight jacket for 5 hours...youre lucky this is all i can do'.

there is a reason our kids arent allowed to watch television. okay, theres a million reasons, but i swear, after watching dvd after dvd for hours on end, our typically well mannered peach was the most distracted, bossy and easily the rudest shes ever been. and we will happily make that trade for the trip home as well.

between the garmin, cell phone, dvd player, pump, ipod, and headphones, i was ready to throw EVERY cord and charger out the window. i was on the verge of a major meltdown every time i had to try and find anything near the console. it looked like our car was hooked up on life support and at any moment i was going to carelessly rip one of the seemingly 30 different cords out. highly frustrating for a person who likes things orderly and hates clutter and who is so challenged when it comes to anything electronic. not fun.

lesson learned...do not tell your child when you have finally entered the state of said destination if your city of destination is still over 3 hours past the state line. and you have forbidden anymore movies for the remainder of the trip for your highly inquisitive child.

other lesson learned...always check the hotel room extra super good for anything of value you may be overlooking. particularly if the things of value are white, personalized, treasured baby blankets that blend in perfectly with the white bed linens. ah yes. just a few moments of trauma while we dialed up vincent at the front desk who assured me they are in fact on their way here. we hope.

hindsight

2009-03-31T10:40:00.000-04:00

its the rear view mirror that used to get me. drawing me closer and closer in, checking frequently to see all that was behind me. turns in the road, pot holes, pit stops, blind spots. all of it. constantly causing me to look back and wonder. to wonder what if. what if i had made better choices, different choices. what if id taken fewer detours and made less wrong turns. what if i could look back and never see the lines of regret carefully lining all the lanes behind me. what if i had spent less time lost?

im great at second guessing. fabulous really. i can spend so much time wondering and thinking about the past that i am left paralyzed in my present and oblivious to my future. i can over analyze, daydream and rewind at a moments notice, drawing myself into thoughts that are carefully hidden, lying just beneath the surface of me. i can retrace the map of my life with intense detail and am quick to recognize where the slightest turn in my past could have forever altered my future. and there was a time when journeying down these roads of my past would leave me full of questions about my present.

there was a moment, when i had been looking so intensely in my rear view mirror, i almost ran off the road. i slammed on the brakes and pulled over. i stopped in my tracks and was scared to death of where i had ended up, mindlessly driving ahead while only focusing on what was behind. i was in disbelief when i finally looked up and scarcely recognized the landscape of my life around me. i caught my breath and prayed the clumsiest of prayers...something like 'take this from me. the second guessing and the regret. the what ifs and the wondering. the pain. the curiosity. the blame. all of it. please. amen.' i spent moments on my knees, waiting and hoping, tears streaming and heart pounding knowing that He who had kept me on the road moments before would hear me. i waited. and waited. and waited.

i soon began to feel something changing within me and around me. a palpable feeling of being released. i spent some time getting used to that feeling, the weight of it, the smell of it, the feeling of being free. it was awkward (as you can only imagine if youve carried something for so long to be absent from it) and different. wonderfully and beautifully different. there was an ease within me i had been without for so long. i couldnt find a part of me to store up anymore contentment. this amazing God, with His amazing grace had reached down and changed me. He took the map and lovingly showed me in flashes of my past and moments in my future where i had missed Him. where i was completely oblivious to His divine presence in all my journeys, even ones riddled with wrong turns and backtracking. when i looked again, this time closer with a clarity i had never known i could easily recognize the course He had laid out before me. there were no roads without purpose and no turns without reason. no need for regrets and second guessing. i was precisely where He intended for me to be at this moment, resting securely in His plan.

when the relief turned to joy and the joy turned to peace and the peace turned to a quiet calm, i realized my heart was no longer racing and i was ready to get back on the road. i started driving again, this time with purpose and gratitude and when i felt the urge to check my past out of habit and curiosity, i saw nothing for the mirror had so graciously been removed.

speechless

2009-03-25T11:46:00.000-04:00

this happened in my house, in my kitchen to be exact yesterday while georgia and i were 'discussing' her beverage choices. she is the ONLY person in the world i have met thus far that leaves me speechless, recklessly grabbing for words that are simply not there. im dumbfounded and frustrated at best. and a little pissed and fed up at worst. the dialogue went like this:

gk: mommy, may i have some milk please?
me: no, sweetie, your tummy was upset this morning, so we are going to stick with water for the afternoon.
gk: but why?? i really want my milk. just a little glass, please...
me: no. not today. your choice is water or nothing. milk is not good for an upset tummy.
gk: YES it is...it will make me STRONG...you said that, remember?
me: yes, i remember, but we are not going to discuss this any further. water or nothing. please stop arguing with mommy.
gk: im not arguing.
me: yes you are.
gk: no im not.
me: yes, georgia, you are and its disrespectful.
gk: no im not being disrespectful.
me: STOP it right now. (i typically change my tone, but rarely my volume. with the sudden change in volume...i got results...just not the ones i was hoping for)
gk: (real tears...and a look of horror on her face) mommy...you, you just yelled at me.
silence....
me: georgia, im sorry i yelled. its not okay to yell like that in our home. honey, please forgive me and lets try really hard to be respectful and not argue with mommy. okay?
gk: its okay mama. we'll try harder....and im only just a little disappointed in you.

so there i was speechless. stupid. without words or a comeback. seriously, at that moment i was just thankful i use words like 'disappointed' and not 'failure' because that would have really left me feeling like junk. i dont know what to do about my 3 year old trying to parent me. im at a loss as usual with this one and would love any suggestions.

boys

2009-03-18T15:55:00.000-04:00

so i know raising a son will be much different and dirtier than raising a daughter (ive been peed on enough times to have at least a basic understanding of the 'messier than chicks' factor by now) . ive seen it with all of my friends with boys and truth be told i really cant wait for the dirt, bugs and countless injuries that seem to inevitably accompany the role of 'boy'. but what im far more concerned about is raising a man. i am consumed with thoughts of 'what kind of man will my sweet boy become?' thats it for me. the challenge of raising a son is that one day he will be a man raising his own family and while i dont want to get too far ahead of myself (too late i hear you saying...) i am trying to see the big picture here. or at least the most important part of a small one. i didnt marry a sissy. i didnt pick a big baby to father my kids and lead our family and i dont expect anyone else to want to either. so here it is in size 12 font...i want to raise a boy who will one day be a man of courage and integrity, compassion and conviction, with a strong sense of gratitude and generosity. who unabashadly chases hard after his goals and is not intimidated by failure. i dont have any idea how to instill these attributes in him other than to take comfort and hope in knowing he will see all of these in his father. i feel like ive already done the best that i can do for jack simply by picking the right man for him to emulate.

i heard a friend the other night pull his two year old son aside for a teaching moment after he had hit georgia. amid the nuggets of wisdom he passed on was a simple order to 'never ever hit a girl'. the boys mama (a dear friend of mine) rolled her eyes and said to me he should never hit anyone. and while i love that she is steadfast in teaching him some basic manners for functioning in life, i love the fact that his dad is already laying the foundation for one of the many man laws that govern a boys life. you never hit a girl. and while bullying is off limits and picking a fight is wrong, there are certain times when standing up for or protecting what is sacred to you may be worth a fight. and perhaps this truth in all its complexity may be best understood later in life (after the tender and impressionable age of 2), but i commend him for speaking his truth to his sweet boy now. we are all only teaching and learning one moment at a time anyway and im confident the opportunity will arise to impart additional details of the 'no hit' rule in the future.

its just one of the many things that is different in parenting a son. we are created differently on purpose by a Creator who had a pretty perfect plan and while it may be a source of debates on equality and fairness and a source of contention with all the feminazis of the world, we should not be trying to raise a generation of boys to be the same as a generation of girls. there are certain truths and differences that are undeniable and shouldnt be hampered or discouraged under the guise of equality but rather nurtured and encouraged as Divine inspired unique qualities to be celebrated and strengthened. i want jack to be able to throw a football and change a tire. he doesnt have to love football (or fulfill a dream of being a left handed pitcher...his dream i swear) nor should he feel pressure to have a love of cars, but at some point those two skills will be useful. i want him to instinctively open a door for a woman or a stranger out of a desire to be polite and kind. he does not need to sing coom by ya at the nursing home on sundays to be a good man and i could care less if he wants to be a boy scout, but basic kindness and a willingness to serve others is a sign of compassion and a cornerstone of a strong character.

a few other important skills...movie lines and sound effects. he needs to have a basic database for both. (again, thank God we have patrick around...) i dont care if he loves that stupid movie blazing saddles, but almost every other boy/man in the world has an inexplicable knowledge and affection for it...i dont get it, but hopefully this can be one of the many things that just he and his dad understand about one another. and star wars. please dont get me started. lets just say he will be exposed in some grand fashion at an age too young for my liking but i will simply shut up and color and watch the bonding occur...and then be on call for a week to soothe the nightmares that follow. sound effects are critical (and im not being over dramatic here either) to the development of a boys mind...i refuse to buy any toys that make all the noises for him...im telling you they are robbing him of a God given skill that he may never tap into if playschool and mattel have their way with him. have you met a guy in his twenties, thirties or forties who cant make the sound of an explosion or car?? tragic im telling you. borderline pathetic, really.

alas, i dont have all the answers (or even a few if im being honest) about how to go about raising a man when i only have him for a few brief years as a boy, but my hope is that the One who so generously gave him to me will partner with patrick and i as we try. and inevitably fail at this awesome and exciting opportunity that we have been given to hopefully raise up the kind of man that will one day be used by Him to do many things great and small for His purpose. and if he can quote happy gilmore or tommy boy word for word and throw a fast pitch, all the better.

road words

2009-03-16T14:59:00.000-04:00

i was out shopping today and came across a few interesting things...

1. shiny black mazda miata with one large bumper sticker on the back that read in caps:: BACK OFF-I'M A GODDESS. i laughed a bit and couldnt wait to pass this goddess in my lane and see her in all her splendor. she turned out to be pushing 85 years old with a head full of white hair, chandelier earrings and rings on every finger she had gripping the wheel. i almost wrecked and thought for a moment maybe she was some sort of goddess.

2. p.o.s. car with a license plate that said 'LV KABUL'. i still dont know if he loves kabul, wants to leave kabul or simply lives kabul. i wish he would have been clearer.

3. big arse 18 wheeler (purple no less) honking and waving at me as i drove by. initially i thought my car was on fire. until he sped up and did it again with a semi toothless smile. wow. let me cross 4 lanes of traffic, have you follow me and offer you my number. has this EVER worked for you in the history of your trucking career?? im a little insecure these days with my appearance, im even a little desperate for an upgrade, but seriously...even i, in my fragile state, find this pathetic and funny.

4. went to the childrens place looking for shoes for the peach. i just want to make it clear right now...STOP trying to dress my little girl like a hooker. she has no business wearing heels. for that matter, no little girl does. i have a lot of gray areas but there is never an excuse for dressing my 3 year old like a 23 year old just trying to make money for college....dancing.

5. i have lived a lot of different places and ive seen a lot of crazy drivers...(you fellow amerikoreanites, yes this the technical term for having lived over there) we barely survived the streets of asia, but living here is comparable. less people per car, nicer make and model but clearly the drugs are being trafficked over here, too. d.c. drivers drive around with the greatest sense of entitlement i have ever seen, as if i should be grateful to have their beamer cutting me off in traffic or i should feel relieved that they decided to let me merge while traffic is at a standstill. its called common courtesy people, not an overly generous act.

6. if the crossing bar is down over the h.o.v. lane, are three barrels really necessary? or is this just novas way of giving everyone a jobby job?

7. bumper sticker with the obama circle...hOnk if youre paying my mortgage.

8. sign on the back of a mini van that read: CAUTION: SHOW DOGS. as if this isnt absurd enough, there was a picture of dachsunds under it. wth?? i could understand the sign if it said: CAUTION: BADNEWZ KENNELS or CAUTION: VICKS SHOW DOGS. but, why should i be any more cautious around your van of dachshunds than any other car on the road? really, you think i would swerve to miss your van a wee bit more because of your lovely warning? i can see it now us cruising down the interstate at 75 mph when all of the sudden dachshund van rolls up...quick! everyone SLOW DOWN...BE CAUTIOUS...thats a van full of SHOW DACHSHUNDS!!

good talk

2009-03-12T16:54:00.000-04:00

we are not human beings going through a

temporary spiritual experience.

we are spiritual beings going through a

temporary human experience.

the end of the day

2009-03-10T12:06:00.000-04:00

at the end of the day i am hopelessly flawed, unbelievably exhausted, surprisingly content and overwhelmed with gratitude. at the end of the day i still believe coffee is magical and better than any drug i can imagine, that margaritas with chips and salsa is a perfectly balanced meal and that laundry can always wait. at the end of the day i am the luckiest woman i know to have my best friend beside me and my two most treasured gifts just a few steps away. at the end of the day, im discovering who i am in the quiet moments where my mind is still carrying on the craziness of the day even while my body battles for it to rest. i lie awake asking God a barrage of questions, some silly and small, some great and complex all the while waiting and expecting brilliant and loving answers. i throw concerns and thanks His way, unloading them from my already heavy baggage and let Him do the unpacking. at the end of the day, i know who i have been, who i am becoming and most of all who i long to be. i know i love being a mother and have never looked back at the work of my past, but have instead grabbed a hold of my present in the grip of tiny hands and begun molding my future one teaching and loving moment at a time. at the end of the day, i know i have been given a tremendous gift and opportunity to be the one wiping noses, attending spontaneous tea parties and capturing all of their firsts firsthand. at the end of the day, i am profoundly grateful for the people in my life and the realization that material possessions hold such an insignificant place in my days...and im sorry it took me too many years to crack that now ridiculously easy code. at the end of the day i have my health, such a tremendous blessing in itself, to be used chasing and nurturing the hearts and minds of little people who will one day be big people entirely too soon...and i will be left longing for more time with them. at the end of the day, i can be uneasy and conflicted about so many things, but completely at peace with others...like answering the call of motherhood with all of me and trusting His provisions and plans are never flawed like my own. at the end of the day i rest under a thick blanket of grace, keeping me humble and ready for the next day. at the end of the day i am consumed with curiosity and eager for the revealation of gifts and surprises of tomorrow. and at the end of the day i have more than i could have ever imagined and am living the best days of my life, imperfections and all.

i should know better

2009-03-09T12:16:00.000-04:00

im not quite sure what my issue is as of late. perhaps its the daily struggle to shower or more accurately disguise the fact i havent..thank goodness for hats, pony tails and bronzer...they go a long way in times of hygiene drought. but im realizing after the liquid liner ordeal, the threading fiasco and now my most recent attempt at upgrading my blah self that i may have a problem.

all i had to do was pick up a prescription for the peach. thats it. there was nothing else in that entire cvs that needed my time or attention. however, i could not resist the magnetic pull to the cosmetic aisle. why?? i have no idea. i have already confessed i rotate my wardrobe between 4 exciting colors...black, grey, white and brown. i avoid prints and patterns and havent changed my limited cosmetic routine since 8th grade when i did, in a moment of fleeting adolescent clarity, finally quit wearing electric blue eyeliner (there was an audible collective sigh by my parents). but in spite of my unwillingness to change anything permanently, i am more than willing to throw money away on countless possibilities...like the silver mac eyeshadow that looks awesome if your rocking wings down a victorias secret runway or the shimmerific bronzer that looks like i rolled my nose in georgias glitter. and then theres the smudge liner intended to give you a smoky eye, which leaves me looking more like a strung out heroin addict without the waif like frame.

but here i was again, dangerously sampling every product under the sun imagining all of the possible scenarios in which they wouldnt leave me looking like a clown. i walked up and down each aisle until something shiny caught my eye. hmmm. lip inflation. sounds fun. i noticed it was very glossy and looked fabulous on the model...as if theyd really try and sell their product with an eye catching ugly chic. it was even packaged in gold. must be nice. i tossed it in my basket along with some butterscotch chapstick (i know its completely pathetic that i cant even resist desserts when i cant eat them) and some water proof funky brush mascara.

once home i retreated to the bathroom to begin sampling my new treasures. first, the butterscotch chapstick. yum. it smelled so wonderful i added cookies to my mental shopping list. then i applied the water proof mascara which had a brush that looked like a sea creature...wth? is this seriously supposed to work? trusting the experts in cosmetic land, i applied a quick coat. too quick. it ended up on no less than 3 places other than my eyes. hmm. i began the tried and true quick dab method at which time it smudged and became permanently affixed to my fingers as well. no biggie. i began vigorously rinsing my hands under the sink only to realize this mascara was staying firmly put. after rubbing the spots on my face, the only evidence that it was working were the red marks that now surrounded the sharpie like mascara spots. nice. without the patience to mix up the turpentine to remove my mascara i moved onto the gold lip inflation. i applied one coat, then two. it smelled like cinnamon and was super shiny. how nice. for a brief moment i was able to avert my eyes from the sharpie spots and see the shiny gloss. i was happily thinking 2 out of 3 is better than my usual odds when i began to feel the burn. super fire hot burn. my lips were on fire. i wanted to stop drop and roll in the sink. i grabbed a towel and wiped my mouth, hoping that the blistering sensation would end.

and it did after scrubbing the top layer of skin off of my lips. what began as an enthusiastic attempt at subtle change ended with me looking like a victim of an attack by a drunk monkey with a sharpie and piece of sandpaper. mark my words...i am DONE with change. done. keep me accountable to that statement if you happen to hear me discussing any of the latest and greatest in cosmetics. ive decided they are all lies aimed at inflicting mass torture on already tired and hopelessly insecure women. or is that just me??

threading

2009-02-23T11:23:00.000-05:00

there are three things that instantly make me feel a thousand times better about myself...i would love to say its kind gestures from a thoughtful mate (like the roses that arrived last week) or words of affirmation from a sweet three year old (like the 'youre a great valentine' props from the peach), but unfortunately im just not that great of a person. the three things that always make me feel better are: a tan, freshly waxed eyebrows and a shift down (ever so slight) on the scale. its that simple. im that simple. so last week while out with a friend when she mentioned this new threading thing she had done to her brows, my interest was peaked. i decided then that the first opportunity i had sans little people, i would try out this new and exciting brow shaping thing.

four days later i found myself in an interesting salon (i use 'salon' very loosely as there was the faint smell of possum urine and hazy green smoke lingering) without an appointment. nice woman from nepal puts down some strange cuisine and comes over just as the smell was having me reconsider the whole thing. i explained i was a threading virgin and was up for the thrill of manicured brows. it was at this moment with my excitement reaching an unnaturally climactic high that i realized i dont get out nearly enough. nepali chick realized it too and joining in my unnatural joy, enthusiastically led me to a seat. and while i was hoping for some cucumber water or tea, the ripped plastic chair and weird smell were all the ambiance i was going to get.

she jerked my head back and began rubbing my brows before threading a long piece of string through her fingers and...mouth. at this point i closed my eyes and happily imagined aveda like thoughts. she kindly explained i would need to hold my brow area taut to make her job a bit easier. fine. no more pretending i was somewhere else, i now had to actively participate in this fun. whatever. at this point there is some rapid ripping of brow hair going on and it is only the thought of what might happen if i move keeping me stiff and still as a board in the seat. she says something about me being 'strong lady' and 'handle pain well' as she continues tearing hair out at an alarmingly fast rate. never one to just shut up and color, i cannot resist the urge to chime in with 'well, i did have a baby not too long ago'...ha ha ha. lame, i know and pretty stupid since at the time of having a baby i had no feeling in my body, was ready to run away with my anesthesiologist and wouldnt have known the difference between birthing a baby human or elephant calf. anyway, she finishes up with one brow and while there is still a slight stinging sensation going on the entire side of my face, im not about to cut this session short with one brow looking great and the other looking like ive just spent 3o days on survivor. besides, after having my pain tolerance talked up, im feeling a wee bit over confident. mostly because im an idiot and partly because its just that easy to stroke my fragile ego.

and so begins the other side. or as i now refer to it, 'the side of hell'. within moments of me once again holding my brow taut for the brow ripping, i realize the only thing keeping my entire body from flinching out of the chair is the flexing of every muscle i have. i begin to remember one of the girls at the salon i worked at in college telling me everyone has an 'easy' brow and a 'hard' brow. basically one that lets go of the hair easier and one that doesnt. clearly, we have just discovered which is which for me. nice lady now starts saying things like, 'tearing is very normal' and 'this wont take much longer' and finally, 'a lot of people cry a bit'. nice. im not crying, i simply cannot control the excessive watering that is now coming from my eye.

the good news is, they really look much better than a wax, there is no redness (although based on the pain level, i was surprised there wasnt blood dripping from my face) and she assured me that it would be less painful next time. yes, but will it still smell like possum piss?

jdubs dedication

2009-02-22T11:50:00.000-05:00

We had the privilege of dedicating Jack recently. Many have asked what that means. Without going into a lengthy discussion or explanation, the short version is we have publicly sought the support, encouragement, accountability and prayers of those present and loved ones far away in raising him to know, love, serve and wholeheartedly pursue after our amazing Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We have the tremendous blessing of having our own families seeking the same pursuits. We have amazing parents who love, guide and pray for us continually. We have siblings who model Christ's love to us and to their children. We are forever grateful for the families that God chose to place us in and know that His provisions have been abundant. It is the love of our families and the love of Christ we have always seen in them that led us to where we are today, dedicating our own beloved son to the One who generously gave him to us. We are always mindful that He has entrusted His precious child, Jack, to us to love, nurture and most importantly guide to Him. We will one day be held accountable for what we do and do not do as his parents and our greatest hope and prayer is that our Father who gave him to us is pleased with us as we seek His will daily. We know the time will come when Jack will be responsible for his own choices as he travels his journey of faith and our hope is that he will seek to know God and His infinite love for him. We were blessed to share the day with close friends, Angie & Dave Faggard, Jim & Tricia Friddell and Amy & Brian Moore. His outfit was made with love by his Grandma Sutherland and will be a treasured reminder of this special day.

nastay...a tad worse than nasty

2009-02-10T15:43:00.000-05:00

just the other day patrick asked if jack needed a diaper change and without hesitation i promptly buried my nose in the diapered rear of our youngest. and it hit me...i am a different person than i was just a short 3 years ago. i am doing things i would have never believed i was capable of...like smelling butts and leaping out of a dead sleep to answer the call of an inquisitive child at 3 am. the list of what im doing on a daily basis no longer surprises me which is somewhat remarkable if you could only see my days. i wiped snot from georgia on my jeans today. its not that i didnt want to retrieve a respectable tissue, its just that my options were somewhat limited with jack and georgia coordinating their 'need to eat' and their 'need to sneeze' to be the exact same time. and, yes, its disgusting. i would gag if i saw you do it and pretend that i hadnt done the same and yet, i regularly find myself doing the most disgusting of things. today, while changing a diaper, the fountain started and i threw a burp cloth on his little man. i found the same burp cloth, unlaundered, laying on the floor hours later. gross. i also realized gk had used it as a towel for one of her babies moments earlier. double gross. ive inspected finger tips for boogies and butt cheeks for hidden poop. im telling you, im not proud. im appalled, really, at all that i do without flinching, but this is my new reality. and i love my new reality.

we made heart cakes tonight for patrick. we dropped egg shells in the batter, licked the spoon while stirring and sampled the batter...with raw eggs and all. we watched them rise and fall in the oven, added yellow food coloring to the icing on accident and then corrected our mistake with 17 drops of red which left an orangey reddish hue on the cake and did god only knows what to our bodies. it was at around drop 15 i remembered there being some article years ago about the harmful effects of red dye...im assuming it pertained to big m&m factories, not food coloring plants, but either way, i dropped two more in there in my final attempt at 'pink' cakes. and while they werent exactly pink, they were smothered and covered and piled unhealthily high with mounds of orangey red frosting and delivered to patrick with the honest question from the heart of a 3 year old...will you be my valentine? he melted. but only for a moment because this question was immediately followed up with, 'can i have a bite?' and so it goes. my days that start with an audible alarm and end with prayers at the bedsides of the little people.

tomorrow will be another day filled to the brim with moments that melt my heart or make me gag. either way, im blessed and content. and living a completely different life than a short 3 years ago. thank goodness for the whole of it...the good, the bad and the utterly nastay.

the truth

2009-01-31T11:50:00.000-05:00

the truth is you cant fix crazy she told me. and i believe her now more than ever before. we watched the forest of families and friendships burn from the edge, sometimes still feeling the cool of the other side, sometimes feeling the burn. the person we spoke of lit matches with lies and gossip, imaginary scandals and then waited. and waited. waited to see which ones would take, fanned by her well disguised intentions and which ones would simply die out without any kindling to spark.

and i wonder from time to time how the fires are burning around her right now. i think of her, of her family unknowingly drowning in her toxicity and choking on her smoke and wonder what their future will be. what the future holds for the landscape of ashes she has created. my burns have healed, only on occasion do i even notice their scars, but they remain scars just the same. evidence of her love of fanning the flames. our friendship ended even quicker than it began. it wasnt a choice as much as a necessity to protect myself and my family. its dangerous to keep an arson in your midst when your shortcomings create sparks. those sparks, with the right person, can destroy an entire landscape with catastrophic results.

and im smarter now (though i thought i was smarter then) and i can see the benefits of what ive learned. i can now recognize the smell and sound of a match as it is being struck and am no longer drawn to the warming and disarming small flame. i see the potential wildfire in my own choices as well as the ashes left behind. i can sense the motives of arsonists around me, almost always self seeking and self promoting, leaving charred landscapes in their wake only to come in after the smoke has cleared and pretend to help in the recovery and rebuilding of lives. i have grown fiercely protective of my own trees and do more to care for them than before. and while there are certainly phoenixes that will arise from ashes; i have witnessed them around me and around her, theyre flight is hindered by where they have arisen from. perhaps that is my hope for her own children, for her own husband and undoubtedly the countless others caught in her blaze, that one day they will all arise from charred remains and take flight. that they would reach happiness and health. balance and love. and of course the peace and sanity that cannot thrive in her presence. and for myself, for the multitude of lessons i have learned, i pray for a heart of compassion and forgiveness even while acknowledging the truth that you really cant fix crazy.

the friendly skies

2009-01-25T21:09:00.000-05:00

recently we took the kids and flew to texas for Christmas and then onto missouri for new years. due to patricks schedule and his need to be back sooner than we needed to be, i decided to stay an extra week on the farm...still cant seem to ever get enough time with the rents. i vaguely remember the conversation that took place the night we booked our tix for the trip...i was pregnant (which for those of you who know me leaves me incapable of making sound decisions) and realistic husband even questioned (albeit briefly) if i thought traveling by myself with the kids would be too difficult. of course not...georgia did manage to handle a 30 hour itinerary from korea and jack will naturally be sound asleep in the baby bjorn safely secured to me. i never gave it a second thought. mostly because ive been living somewhere between underslept and over caffeinated and partly because my way of handling any and all potentially unpleasant future situations is to spend my present in a state of denial.

needless to say traveling to texas and then onto missouri with better half was uneventful...man to man coverage is always a safe bet. however, the trip home solo had a few moments worth mentioning. and by few, i mean many. too many to actually recount, but ill highlight the faves.

during our brief layover in newark, i had the opportunity to exercise while traveling..running through the airport with jack strapped in somewhat safely with his head bobbling around, pushing georgia in the stroller and lugging 50 lb diaper bag on one shoulder with childs suitcase on the other gave me the chance to burn those mini pretzels from flight one right off. when i began to literally feel the burn in my arms, i expertly transferred both bags to the handles of the stroller. with my load considerably lighter i bravely ventured into the public restroom to let the peach use the potty. this was my lame attempt at avoiding the plane bathrooms that bring out the claustrophobic in me in 2 seconds flat. not to mention the maneuvering that must take place in there with a toddler. ive said it before but i expect applause and a medal every time i step out of one of those germ infested porta potties in the sky having successfully sanitized an area and changed a diaper or assisted a toddler in the one square foot allotted. anyway, i waited patiently for the large stall at the end to open with the peach asking a relentless series of questions ranging from 'are you going to go tinkle, mommy?' to 'i think that lady went poop. do you think she went poop, mommy?'

once inside the stall, georgia promptly hopped out of the stroller. heavy bags on stroller handles promptly caused it to flip over onto the sticky floor. all 736 items in diaper bag are now covering every inch of the stall floor. in my haste to lean over and begin picking up said items, jack about falls out the top of the bjorn. he is completely upside down while i hold him in with one hand and take inventory of all items in need of sanitation with the other. i cant help but try and ignore the floor that georgias fingers are all over and keep reminding myself we will wash extra well after potty time. jack is now awake (as anyone dangling upside down would be) and hungry. fabulous. i get gk on the potty and she reminds me that we are 'not to touch anything'. i find this particularly funny as everything now in the diaper bag and every part of both of her hands have now been all over the floor of a very high traffic public restroom.

i made the decision to not attempt to pee with jack in the baby bjorn...ive never been good at peeing in the woods and with my luck and how the day was unfolding i was fairly confident i would end up either peeing on myself or on jack. i figured it would be nice if just one in our party of three could be spared the joy of public restroom germs and i couldnt bear the thought of hours of questions from my interrogator on what happened to mommy and jack if my attempt failed. we rolled out of the stall looking weathered at best. between my sweat and flustered self and the black cashmere sweater now giving my drooling 4 month old the appearance of a goatee, i just wanted to wash hands and get on the next flight. except that now in front of the sink, i cannot get to georgia fast enough and she hops out AGAIN. stroller flips AGAIN and i am left wondering what patron saint of parenting i have pissed off.

twenty something cutie patootie who has the nerve to wear horizontal stripes, leggings, boots and a handbag trots over to begin helping me pick the items up. gk is a little unnerved, jack is screaming now and i am wondering if i will ever feel cold again. i dont exactly remember what i said at that moment, truth be told it probably rhymed with fit (which i felt like having) or quit (which i felt like doing), but what i apparently failed to say was thank you. i only know this because as stripe girl walked away she said 'your welcome'. ahh yes. jersey. the friendliest place on earth. i wanted to say, 'hey, wait can i get your address? or maybe your autograph? i was hoping to send you a thank you note and flowers to thank you for really going above and beyond here.' the truth is, i was grateful. and appreciative, but seriously, was it not obvious that the balancing act i was trying to pull off while not dumping infant out head first and hanging onto now fit throwing 2 year old with other hand not evidence enough that i was in no position to fall over myself with gratitude? i think i even muttered thank you in the midst of the ordeal but her bangles were probably clicking too loud for her to hear me. anyway, bathroom scene over. onto boarding.

i couldnt help but notice the insanely long line waiting to board my flight and i even felt a moment of relief (the screaming baby with a goatee and whining two year old were just like white noise at this point) realizing i fell into the 'in need of help, please pre board' category. until i heard airline guy make the announcement that it was now open to everyone. clearly, while playing in the restroom, i had missed my chance at the only perk of flying with children. ugh. fortunately, there was a nice guy who let me go ahead of him which was great because i just needed to get to my seat so i could feed jack.

we found our seats, i found my hooter hider and gk found the air controllers above the seat. now i just needed to feed the baby and show all the passengers that their flight really wouldnt be as hellacious as they thought because the baby will stop crying and the peach will sit down and be quiet...while she polishes off a pound of skittles. this detail will mean nothing to any of you men reading, but to you women...i had skipped nursing jack at his last feeding and opted for a bottle which left me...full. so with hooter hider in place and black sweater up i began trying to discreetly feed the boy while a constant stream of passengers filed by and georgia experimented with varying degrees of cold air...which helped me transition nicely from sweaty to clammy. perfect. right as i was about to begin feeding jdub, marcos, the happy flight attendant with a nice manicure shows up next to me. i am caught off guard and jack pays the price with a steady stream of milk shooting into his eye. at the same time gk now has all air pointing at me going full blast and marcos wants to chat about an infant life vest. seriously?? marcos, i know you dont lactate and im fairly confident you dont have small children, but surely it is clear to you from your vantage point above me that i am blinding my infant, exposing myself and in the event of a water landing would just as soon take my chances. he continues on, 'if you cannot find your infant life vest in the event of a water landing (arent those more accurately called crashes anyway) see me and i will get you one.' really, marcos, when this plane goes down and all 150 passengers are panicked, youd like me to bring my two children up and down the aisle until we find you to request an infant life vest? wow.

of course i didnt say anything. i just nodded my head and continued to shower jack. however, i did manage to remember my manners this time and thank him profusely before he walked away. within moments, jack was fed and happy and georgia was happily eating skittles. i even managed to wipe the goatee off of jacks face before landing. clearly a successful day of travel.

the day!

2009-01-21T10:05:00.000-05:00

so ill post a few thoughts at length when i dont have jack on my lap drooling and gk setting up a tea party for me in her tent...im running late already, but i wanted to post a quick pic from the big day...the inauguration of president barack obama. it was unbelievable to be there and witness such a great moment in history with some rockstar friends, brooke and paul kind who drove down from princeton to witness the event with us. it was everything id hoped itd be and more....and i didnt freak out with 2 million people around me...so proud.

because im the lamest

2009-01-15T22:07:00.000-05:00

im finally posting a pic of jack...hes 4 months old today and this is only his second appearance on the blog. im a terrible mother and proving that whole second baby theory. hes awesome and his sister still rocks. hes huge weighing over 16 lbs at his last appt...i keep telling gk to watch her fingers when he starts rolling over and to start protecting her plate of food...hes putting down rice cereal like a champ and has only requested a side of a-1 steak sauce once.

crowds

2009-01-15T14:04:00.000-05:00

there are many things that make me highly uncomfortable...turbulence, 4 inch heels, strapless bras, bleachers, and crowds with lots of children. im fine on a playground, im great in a classroom teaching, but parties with lots of children freak me out. i would rather sit in a car in minot north dakota without heat than be at a party with the little people running wild. so imagine the scenario that played out a couple of weeks ago when one of my bestest friends in the world was hosting her 5th annual thanksmas bash. this event is always a blast, tons of food, drinks and people. and because my dear friend is THE most social person you have ever met, because she LOVES lots of children and because she would never leave ANYONE out, she sent the invites out and the rsvps began pouring in. we decided to drive down for the weekend and get our holiday party on at the hotel friddell aka her house. it was all good and i was feeling ready for the shindig all day long. doors opened at 4pm sharp and the peeps started rolling in one after another. of course all the couples sans kids and singles arrived first...i vaguely remember what it was like to be on time before kids. at around 5:30, the families with kiddos started showing up. i could feel my stress level rising with every gleeful squeal and snotty nose that walked through the door. i began to hold jack and georgia close to me as i scouted out with my eagle eye the sickest kids to avoid...i know, youre realizing how ridiculous this sounds...im telling you, i realize it, too. i even realized it then, i just couldnt control it. at around 6:30 and 40 adults + 20 children later, i retreated up to the guest room we were staying in with both of the kids.

it was impossible to supervise that number of people and rather than continue my death grip on my kids in the corner, i did what any crazy mother having a panic attack would do...i bribed georgia to follow me upstairs. within the calm walls of my room, i began to relax and feel better. it took less than two minutes for the peach to ask 'what are we doing up here?' um...well, sweetie, we are just taking a little break and hanging out just the three of us. isnt this fun? 'no mama, i want to go play chase with the kids downstairs'. okay, honey we could do that or we could put on makeup! perfect. yes, i was clearly desperate, but at least i wasnt trying to catch my breath. so, makeup it was. and lotion. and jewelry. and before i knew it, the families cleared (those pesky bedtimes kept the night short) and i was able to spend the rest of the evening with my friends without white knuckles hanging onto my kiddos.

thank you...

2008-12-16T11:17:00.000-05:00

i was talking to your sister the other day about a few things and it occurred to me that there may be something you need to know. something lost in the translation of our days as we swap stories and laughs and struggles. and while it may be hard to believe in light of my uncanny ability to over dramatize as easily as i can over simplify, there is something within me that i feel i may have forgotten to tell you. and i will try and articulate it in a way that adequately carries the weight of my words from my heart to yours. i will try and help you to see it, to feel it and most importantly to know it as well as you know the freckles on my hand or the way i take my coffee.

thank you. thank you for making it possible for me to be the one to care for our little ones. for affording me the luxury of time at home while they are home. it is such a short amount of time, these years before school and friends and activities pull them out the door and we are left wishing for more of them. of their time. of even meeting all of their needs. so in the midst of my days, as monotonous and sometimes challenging as they can be, thank you. they are my days, our days, these little people and i. and i am grateful. thankful from my tired eyes to my tired toes that you, in your wisdom, in your love and in your encouraging way not only make it possible for me to stay home, but support it with your words, with your actions, with your ways. so thank you.

and i understand this may be a newsflash to you, something i have been horribly negligent in conveying. and it may be hard to wrap your brain around, to truly believe (especially on those days when ive perfected the art of unloading the days worries on you) but believe me when i tell you that you have given me more than i could have ever hoped for. this life, this time, these days filled with runny noses and babies that need to be held, lunches that need to be made and naps that need to be taken. the hugs, kisses, snuggles and correction given out countless times everyday would not be traded for anything. nothing. there is nothing i would rather be doing than what you are enabling me to do everyday. so thank you.

when i am exhausted and complain my greatest accomplishment was brushing my teeth and finishing laundry, i am exaggerating. because our daughter has manners. and our baby is happy and i couldnt really ask to accomplish anything more. you dont really understand the sense of being overwhelmed by children, nor do you understand the unspeakable joy of actually completing a total to do list...with two happy children, but you pretend to. you celebrate all of our good days and empathize with the more challenging ones. you encourage me more than you know with your words of affirmation as i try to teach and reach the hearts of our precious children. this job, this gift of full time motherhood, this miracle really of raising children is the one thing i want to do right. the thing i want to excel at most. and you, wonderful you, make me feel like i can and like i am. and regardless of how you really feel, you have me convinced that the calling i feel on my life to stay at home with these children is a call worth answering. you make me feel more than willing. you make me feel capable. regardless of the day, i know i am serving and living with purpose. so thank you.

this life at home full of sticky fingers and wet kisses, messy floors and faces and countless splashes of joy is more than i could have hoped for or dreamt of when we began so many years ago. so thank you. thank you for making my dreams come true. i should have told you sooner.

mama told me...

2008-12-08T09:47:00.001-05:00

there would be days like this. days where you rushed into the shower for the first time in 2 days only to realize afterwards that in your haste to finish while baby screamed and toddler stood guard asking a relentless series of questions regarding said shower that you forgot to rinse the conditioner from your locks. now you look like a shaved version of you only with incredibly greasy hair. you hop effortlessly back into the shower with mascara left from the night before streaming down your face to rinse the conditioner out.

after uber relaxing shower, you manage to remove the alice cooper look only to replace it with that liquid liner you just had to buy last week at macys against all reasonable and better judgment...(why is it that when you are feeling the yuckiest, ie, 10 lbs heavy you think its time to experiment with hair/makeup/wardrobe?? as if lining your eyes and cutting your hair will somehow distract you from the discomfort of your jeans...) anyway, liquid liner does look great when that smokin hot professional make up artist applies it. looks a little less great when frazzled under slept and over caffeinated in a rush and completely distracted mama does it...gk even mentioned, mama, what are you doing with your face? thanks, babe.

its onto feeding the baby, packing the back pack and heading to preschool. thank goodness wednesday is a half day so i dont have to pack lunch for the peach. what a relief to have those extra few minutes...except, georgia goes to school on tuesday...which i remembered when i walked in and saw all the responsible parents carrying lunch boxes packed with im sure well balanced super nutritious lunches. its one thing for the people that know me to see my imperfections (which are plenty and hard to miss) its a totally different story when strangers see me fail...and i know its just a lunch and i know others have certainly felt this inadequate, but i have a thing with appearing irresponsible and negligent to people who dont know me. more on that major issue in another post...

so, wonder woman who runs the show at the preschool offers to save the day and grab my kid a happy meal for lunch. perhaps she senses the tone of my day as i bend down to retrieve wallet out of 50 lb diaper bag only to have it slide off my shoulder and slam into sleeping infants face. nice. hungry 2 year old? check. screaming infant? check. sweating, fumbling dotted liquid liner mommy? check.

relieved to have one child in responsible care for a few hours, i head out for a bit of retail therapy...ie rushed errands with just one kid. this turns into me bouncing a crying baby in some aisle where im sure i could find something to buy if i wasnt completely preoccupied with the crying baby. this would be a good time to mention that jack has almost convinced me that any area of our floor and surface of his crib/cradle/swing/bouncy seat/activity mat potentially has an electrical current flowing through it. it seems the only safe place current free is in my arms. which is good, because ive found its hard to open up the tub of ice cream and eat it with one hand...however, super easy to dip chips and salsa..so i digress.

with errands complete and one child nursed (in a display chair at target...i NEVER thought i would be THAT woman) i call it a day. the rest of the afternoon unfolds as seamlessly as the morning and in the craziness of the day i manage to finally put jack down for a nap in his crib. what a success...he sleeps out of my arms for 7 whole minutes!! woo hoo.

so, im spent. worn out after doing virtually nothing..didnt even pack the lunch. but, in the midst of it all, georgia starts naming off all of her friends from school. when i ask her who her bestest friend is, without hesitation she answers, 'you, mommy, you are'. please give me more days like this where i can rush and fail and endure the frenzy and at the end of it all have it all.

excuses and exhaustion

2008-12-01T14:29:00.000-05:00

we have been lucky. unbelievably lucky according to some. gk has been in a toddler bed, free of the baby jail known as a crib for nearly 4 months. without even the threat of invisible crocodiles on her floor or an electric wire, she has NEVER gotten out of her bed. until this week. now we have a 2 month old sleeping beautifully through the night and a 2 year old wearing us down like tire treads at indy. last night, her reasons (LAME excuses) for getting out of her bed were as follows::

1. i was just coming in to check on mommy...how thoughtful, if you really cared about your mommy your arse would be in your bed allowing her to get some much needed rest...the kind of rest that gives her the patience you have come to expect over the last couple of years.

2. i really dont like the scary shadows in my room, can you turn off my night light so they go away?...shadows are not scary, they are evidence that all the stuff you love to play with remains in your room even while youre sleeping, ready and waiting for you to wake up...

3. i really dont like the scary dark, can you turn on my night light so i can see?...this is the same light that creates those shadows...how about you just close your eyes when you see something you dont like?

4. i just wanted to come and snugoool....and on saturday morning after 8, you are more than welcome to climb into bed and snugool...however, at 5:20 am, snuggling is not an option for ANYONE in this bed.

5. um, i dont like my rocking horse looking at me...first of all, i dont think hes really looking at you, his head is facing down. second of all hes been in your room since december 26th 2006...its a little late to start faking fear of this one.

6. could you move my dresser into the hallway please? its just too big and scary...okay, remember the big guys who dripped sweat all over it carrying it up the stairs into your room? its not moving until they come back.

7. i have snots and need a tissue...this is legit. take the tissue to bed and use it until it can be squeezed like a towel. do not call for us until snot drips from it.

so, today, again im still caffeinating at 2:42 in the afternoon after a long night of sheer craziness. any and all suggestions are appreciated...there is nothing we wont consider at this point.

giving thanks

2008-11-24T13:48:00.000-05:00

i love this time of year and all that it entails...i could do without the excessive commercialism that kicks off the day after halloween, but ive become an expert at ignoring that. i love the effort we make to spend these holidays with family and friends regardless of the distance and the questions it has sparked within our little peach as we talk about all that we have and are thankful for. ive been challenged by my friend to fast for a period of time this season to remind myself what real hunger and want feels like at a time when everything to include great meals seem to flow in excess. to briefly experience a fraction of the suffering that millions live and die with everyday. and to reflect on the multitude of blessings that define my existence.

i heard a great message this sunday at church, one that is worth sharing and meditating on. real gratitude is not dictated by our circumstances, but rather Gods presence in them. living that out would mean our gratefulness wouldnt shift or change. ever. not during the moments when we are healthy and loved nor when we are grieving and alone. imagine if we all lived that out. imagine how different our days would look. how different our hearts would look. imagine if we really just lived a life of gratitude to God simply because we believed Him when He promised to never leave us. to trust and accept that in spite of where we are, we are always close to Him. what if we chose to obey Him when He commanded us to give thanks in everything. not everything joyful. not everything pleasant. simply everything. how amazing would it be to experience that kind of gratitude. it would be impossible to overlook that kind of life. it would be impossible to ignore. it would be so counter to what the norm is, it couldnt help but be significant and even life changing for those around you. it is what i long for. a life lived with significance, with grace and humility, courage and hope and above all, gratitude.

victory

2008-11-19T12:58:00.000-05:00

you know youre life has taken a turn when your new moment of victory is not dropping an expletive when your two year old pulls back her toe nail and says, 'look, mommy, i have an owie...see it goes all the way back like this'. aaaaahhhhhh.

and this would not be the only noteworthy victory from the week...patrick and i pulled off a heist worthy of a james bond flick by extracting two pacis guarded as well as fort knox with just a little help from the paci fairy. oh yes. the withdrawal has been slightly better than a heroin addict in detox. no shakes or sweats, but a plethora of well thought out questions by our interrogator. the best was the first night of 'operation paci-free' when said interrogator summoned us to her room moments after bedtime to inform us that she was in fact in fear of the legendary paci fairy...that she 'wears a big hat and opens her mouth wide like a cow but doesnt say moo and thats scary'. i promise i did no drugs during my pregnancy. patrick assured her the paci fairy was rather small, had hands to drop gifts with and wings to fly away with. no big hats, big open mouths and nothing to be scared of. we are now 5 days paci free and while i dont need to stand on a ship with a crowd, i will happily hang a 'mission accomplished' sign and toast yet another significant victory.

a few observations

2008-11-05T15:15:00.000-05:00

after spending the night watching entirely too much election coverage, i had a few quick observations about a few things i saw...this list may grow in the upcoming days.

1. was it just me or did mccain deliver the best speech of his campaign last night? it was nice of his speech writer to truly save the best for dead last.

2. did anyone else find if somewhat funny to hear obama scaling back a wee bit during his first speech as the president elect, offering a refreshing and rare dose of reality with phrases like 'it may not happen in the first term' and 'the government cannot fix everything'. really? i was saying the same thing during so many of his speeches as wild and unrealistic promises were being made...i was half expecting him to recruit david blane to help him walk on water to take the podium and offer free ice cream on sundays throughout all the land.

3. colin powell crying as he spoke of obamas election:: understandable
70 year old black woman weeping at the news:: completely understandable
19 year old white college kid breaking out into dance in the streets playing a bongo drum with tears streaming down her face:: please put the pipe down.

4. giddy man waving a gay rights flag with a peace sign on it in times square...um, obama is not a homosexual pacifist but if you start now you may be able to convince lance bass to run in 2012.

i know there are more, but even i have reached my saturation point for today...more to come as it wears off.

the fairytale today

2008-11-02T14:20:00.000-05:00

last week we took a family drive after an afternoon spent at a local lake. i had been wanting to take this drive almost since we knew we were moving to virginia and with the leaves creating an ever changing tapestry, i thought it was a good time to go back. back to a place that holds countless memories for me. a place where i spent thousands of hours and rarely missed a day visiting over the course of the five years i spent here years ago. rarely a day goes by that i dont think of some aspect of this place and how it shaped me, the things i learned there and the people i knew. i began riding when i got my first pony at the age of 6. from 6 to 22, horses and riding were a part of my daily existence and the most exciting years were the ones spent here in northern virginia training and competing. i have missed it so much and yet know it isnt exactly feasible to pursue that part of my life anymore, at least not in the near term. and yet, i couldnt shake the longing to go back. to drive out to the stables that were a second home to me for so many years.

with my new life in tow, we made the drive only to discover that it is in fact still there, still operating and still looking virtually the exact same way it did when i drove away from it hauling my horses for the last time down that long drive as i moved to the midwest. in the indoor arena, there was even a young girl working a horse that looked just like mine. i couldnt help but stop and watch, count strides and remember the feeling of being that girl. as we drove away pat commented, 'no wonder you have a warped sense of things...you lived in a fairytale'. he was joking and yet not. and its true. while my life has been no fairytale, this part of my upbringing was magical. it was altogether perfect and i missed it. the whole thing. i never thought for a moment that i would spend a day absent from it and the joy it brought me. mornings spent surrounded by the smell of a barn, evenings spent oiling leather and packing for shows. hours upon hours sharing the excitement and fun of competing with my parents at the side of the ring. and yet, this huge part of me is now a part of my past.

on the drive home i couldnt help but wonder what i am missing now. what part of my present life is so magical and so temporal that i wont grasp its greatness until the moments are part of my past? perhaps its the tiny hands that reach for mine when i least expect it or the first smiles of a sweet baby in the wee hours of the morning. maybe its the questions that seem to exhaust me by the days end but never fail to make me smile. it could be the luxury of time with a husband that i know is fleeting or the eyes that ask to snuggle for a few minutes after naps. i dont know how many magical moments God is giving me on a daily basis that i am missing, but i dont want to one day look back longingly wishing for more of them when i am unknowingly swimming in a sea of them right now.

today, this afternoon, i am opening up my self and my soul to the abundant joy He has given me in the present. not the excitement of the past or the anticipation of the future, but the happiness and contentment in today. i will hang onto the coattails of time and beg it to slow down. to slow down for tiny hands and loving glances, for new smiles and wet kisses, for honest questions and insatiable curiosity and for the chance to recognize and embrace all of the magic in the seemingly mundane fairytale i am living.

making friends and marking territory

2008-10-27T19:47:00.000-04:00

the other night our neighbor, being super nice and neighborly kindly lugged all of our trash that had not been picked up that day and brought it back from the curb for us to put out a couple of days later. this was no small task as we have been in the process of purging everything from light fixtures to boxes to full length mirrors (dont ask).

feeling grateful, i threw some cookies in the oven and sent pat and the peach over with a 6 pack of beer and warm cookies. thanks neighbor.

fifteen minutes later, the front door opens and i hear the smallest and sweetest of voices saying 'i had an accident, but daddy says ill get cleaned up and its no big deal.'

hmm. i had a moment where i briefly thought/hoped/prayed the accident meant spilled juice or melted cookie on a dress, but deep down i knew that would have been referred to as a mess, not an accident. gk and her daddy carefully climbed the steps into the living room and she proceeded to tell me in great detail that while next door, she had to go potty (and not knowing where the potty was) she opted for a pile of toys in the living room. 'i just went like this' she explained while spreading her legs hip width apart, 'just like this on the toys'.

ohhh. thats really all i could muster while trying not to laugh an all consuming laugh of amusement and pure embarrassment. i glanced at pat and thanked him for saying all the right things. this is a child who has made the potty training saga a virtual breeze and i dont want her to ever feel reprimanded or embarrassed because there was an accident. what significant accomplishment ever comes without a few setbacks?

'so, im going to go upstairs and get cleaned up and get my jammies on now'. and with that she exited stage right up the stairs with her dad following behind. a few minutes later she appeared again on the stairs and i thought id ask about something other than the accident...'so, georgia, what else did you do at our neighbors house?' 'mommy, member, i told you, i just peed on all their toys.' the speechless mommy took over and so she proceeded to repeat it again for me.

great. enough of that conversation. hope the cookies and beer were were good. next time we'll take over resolve, towels and a change of clothes.

blah

2008-10-17T13:17:00.001-04:00

so i mailed in my absentee ballot today because it is almost offensive to me as a woman when i hear of other women not exercizing this hard fought privilege. but...i am underwhelmed. its not that i dont care about our country, its present struggles or future challenges, i am a lover of this country and want whats best for it...its just that i still cant understand why my choices seemed so limited. so uninspiring. so blah. i realized i was more excited about the act of voting than i was who i was voting for. surely that shouldnt be the case, right? in a country where there is an abundance of great ideas, brilliant minds and strong leaders i am still baffled at how it came down to these guys. let me just say, that one guy is an inspiring speaker with great vision and a strong message and that other guy is a man that i believe exemplifies what it means to put service to others before self and striving to live a life of integrity even while making mistakes along the way. both, i believe, are well intentioned men, wanting what they believe is best for this great nation. its not that i dont like these candidates...i would love having a drink and great conversation with each of them. im just not all that enthusiastic about either of them being our president. but, i filled in my circles, cast my vote and let my one small voice be heard and while i dont typically dispense advice from here, i really think you should too.

moment of truth

2008-10-07T11:24:00.000-04:00

there comes a point in every new mothers life when she must face none other than herself in a full length mirror without the safety of soft lighting and security and now well fitting maternity clothes (who knew even the darling huge tents you purchased at month 2 never believing you would actually fill them out would eventually be cutting off circulation and sliding off your mountainous belly by delivery) and acknowledge once and for all what they mean by 'baby weight'. what they really mean is everything in addition to the insignificant 8 lbs you drop by downloading precious life during delivery. the rest is what i call 'ben & jerrys' weight. we could all fill in the blank...for some it was bagels with mounds of cream cheese, others an endless supply of grilled cheese. but for me, it was dublin mudslide or peach cobbler by my favorite two vermontans (yes, i know thats not a word). and so, yesterday, against my better judgment (a completely overrated part of my self anyway) i did it.

after showering, i decided my moment of truth had arrived. while i knew it wasnt going to be pleasant (after all, what part of this entire process really is?) it was necessary. as necessary as my sick sacks for puking in public places and my epidural. so, in an instant, i dropped the towel and peeked. it is an image that is permanently seared in my mind. i will not go into details... most of you really dont want them anyway, but suffice it to say, things have changed. a lot. so, sopping wet, with milk dripping and mascara running i owned the months of ben and jerrys and now have a starting point. my first drastic measure is to stop wearing the now 'too big and uber comfortable' maternity pants. they give me a false sense of what really needs to be done as i have to continually pull them up. basically, anything with elastic needs to be off limits. unfortunately, i can hear my regular jeans laughing at me every time i even think about putting them on. but, put them (or more accurately pour them) on i will.

i picked my most forgiving pair. a roomy, stretchy pair by the brand seven that tends to be somewhat understanding of my current situation. i put my first foot through the leg and was pleasantly surprised it worked (as if my lower leg would really be the problem area). i pulled them up and while i did manage to pry them over my hips, i now had a button and a button hole a solid 4 inches from ever meeting. not to be deterred by logic or reality, i began pulling them together, willing them to meet again. and they did. barely. leaving me looking like jabba the hut in really nice jeans. how depressing. only my best friend suzy would issue this warning to patrick..."pat, put your safety goggles on, that button could pop at any given moment". ah yes. the truth teller. so, here i am elastic free with what im certain will be a permanent red mark around my waist. and im only mildly uncomfortable...just enough to remind me to put down the vanilla wafers and grab a carrot stick instead. the joys of motherhood....

48 hours and counting

2008-09-13T08:31:00.000-04:00

i am about 2 days out from delivering baby boy and while catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror realized that by all accounts, my face looks like its just 2 marshmallows away from winning a game of 'chubby bunny' or was it 'fluffy bunny'? either way, i am ready. and big.

facebook

2008-09-08T16:57:00.001-04:00

i updated my facebook profile this week under the 'religion' subtitle. i had been reluctant to put anything on there as ive always struggled with how to sum up my faith journey in a word or two. realizing that with anything i throw out there, i will be immediately grouped in, categorized and affiliated with the first thing that comes to the mind of the one reading it, i am hesitant at best to offer up my thoughts. and over the past few years, in light of how many 'christians' have put themselves out there in a way i would not want to be associated with, i am hesitant to join in. i guess its the same reason why under 'political views', i listed 'i have some'. it just seems safer than being judged by a few catch phrases and labels that really seem to define opinions in black and white when i seem to see the majority of my world in varying shades of gray.

but, i bit the bullet, went out on a limb and put under religion, 'asking questions while pursuing Jesus'. it seems to best fit where ive been, where i am and where i am hopefully headed on this journey of faith. its always hard for me to answer the question (most often directly poised by virtual strangers) 'what are you?' im not catholic, although there are certain things about the catholic church i admire and respect. im not just protestant, although every church ive attended would fall into that subcategory. i dont really subscribe to any one denomination in particular and tend to avoid any church that doesnt encourage and embrace serious questions about its beliefs.

i realized just this past week when georgia was asking me when she could see God, where she could see God and when He would be talking back to her...(she kept saying after praying, 'but i cant hear Him, mommy. maybe you could yell and then He would hear us') that i dont want to give her easy answers that i dont myself believe. i dont want to start the spoon feeding of 'religion' to her now only to have her wake up in 20 years and not have any idea why she believes what she believes. my hope is that sometimes, an honest answer of 'i dont know' will be enough. i dont know when she will see God, but i do know countless places she can witness His work, love, creativity and faithfulness. and i dont know how she will grow to discern the voice of God in her life, how He will choose to reveal Himself to her, but i know He left a great start at recognizing His voice in the Word.

i love her questions. and i love that i dont have the need to have all the answers. the truth is my faith has been changed, shifted, strengthened and solidified in those times when i had the biggest questions starting at the cornerstones and foundations of my beliefs. there are questions i have been afraid to ask of my God, and yet He is always faithful to lead me to a greater understanding and more personal relationship with Him during those times. i imagine there has to be some satisfaction for Him when another one of His children comes to Him, albeit at times timid, and asks a big one. as a great Teacher, Counselor, Father and Friend, im certain the God of the universe must get just a little bit of enjoyment in leading one of His own on a journey to answer some questions and ultimately solidify and strengthen their faith in Him. so, ill keep wrestling with aspects of my faith big and small and will hopefully not be afraid to encourage georgia to do the same as she grows up and is able to. i have a sincere faith in He, who promised to answer us truthfully when we honestly seek Him, to handle all of the questions she and i and anyone else may have.

speechless

2008-08-10T18:11:00.000-04:00

i will spare you all the examples of why we think georgia is brilliant...its unbelievably nauseating to hear people rave about their imagined genius children and we are no exception. however, i will say this...she is and has been very verbal...she likes to talk and seems to have a pretty advanced vocabulary...evidenced yet again last week when she told her pediatrician she was 'hilarious' when the nice doctor tried cracking a weak belly button joke. she talks incessantly about everything and is a huge fan of any and all topics that involve her.

last week, as we began camping in our new house, we had the delight of meeting some neighbors...seemingly great people with young children. while we chatted it up with small talk, gk ran in circles in the grass apparently happy to be outside in her new yard. i decided it was time to introduce our peach to our new neighbors...typically our introductions involve gk saying hello, its nice to meet you. this is how it went last week....

me: georgia, come and say hi to our new friends.

gk continuing to run in circles apparently not hearing me.

me: georgia, sweetie, come over and say hello.

gk pauses, kind of grunts and spins a few more times.

me: georgia, get over here right now.

gk kind of skips or hops to my side and looks at me as though this is the first time she has ever been called.

me: georgia, can you please say hello?

gk: grunts and says da-da

im a little surprised and wonder if shes playing some kind of game...

me: sweetie, say hi.

gk: da-da, da-da, da-da. ahhhhh.

me: can you please say its nice to meet you?

at this, our nice new neighbors are clearly amused and wondering what planet i must live on to think my grunting, babbling child can actually speak....

i offered up a half hearted uncomfortable laugh and released all of us from the awkward moment. i offered no further explanations and decided that over the course of time, they would come to know our peach and her gift of conversation. it clearly just wasnt going to be today.

200 square feet and it stinks

2008-07-31T11:17:00.000-04:00

so im writing this from the hotel we have been camping at for the past week and a half waiting on our elusive shipment of household goods to arrive so we can begin the joyous task of unpacking our lives one brown box at a time...discovering along the way jut how many windows we have that are new sizes and walls that dont quite fit our lifes possessions. adding to the joy of today is that our sweet peach has been throwing up for the past 12 hours continuosly. i am now in a room piled high with hotel linens and the faint smell of bile in the air.

i plan on utilizing the grocery service that our hotel offers today since patrick has the car in d.c. doing work at the base and am hoping the eager staff is eager to fetch me some pedialite and saltines to begin testing the tepid waters of gks tummy.

and im ready for our stuff to arrive. and im ready to be living in a real house with familiar linens and familiar smells. im ready for my mom to get here and have all the answers and encouragement to get me through a day like this. but im thankful. im thankful for lori, the kind woman from housekeeping who just delivered fresh towels and removed the smelly pile from the corner (somehow without even a look of disgust...remarkable, i assure you...it stanks). im thankful for the note that patrick left this morning wishing me the best day possible in light of a sick little one. im convinced there is no place he would rather be than in this room with us, smells and all. i feel lucky to be here, in d.c., reunited with close friends and expecting a son in just over 6 weeks. and today will pass. gk will feel better, the puke smell will wash out of one of my few remaining cute shirts that still fit, we will have our stuff delivered eventually and our house will be a home...stocked with pedialite and crackers at the ready for another round in motherhood bliss.

su-per

2008-07-18T11:14:00.000-04:00

for any of you who may not know of my absolute loooove of flying, read this entry from when i experienced a pudding like faith as i flew the friendly skies. for the rest of you who are well aware of my ongoing unnatural, irrational, and completely silly (but very real) fear of flying, you can just picture my joy at last nights news. sweet charlie gibson (i really do love that guy) informed me that the pilots of usairways have taken out a full one page ad in the new york times blowing the whistle on what they claim to be instructions from corporate that could endanger passengers. namely, the issue of flying with the least amount of fuel as possible in order to save money. FABULOUS. i will be extra calm tomorrow as i board my nonstop flight across country on usairways to d.c....i will also be wishing for a cocktail and anti anxiety meds every time i hear the slightest noise. isnt paying for my second checked bag supposed to offset the cost of the fuel? or was it the paying for my glass of water and tiny pack of stale pretzels? or maybe it was the already unbelievably high price i paid for a one way ticket?? i seem to have lost track of all the ways theyve so creatively come up with to screw me out of a few more dollars, but surely one of them can cover the cost of enough fuel to keep the pilots happy and passengers safe. ugh.

just a thought

2008-07-09T21:57:00.000-04:00

so theres this story, a headline really, that if youve seen any news in the last month you have no doubt heard about. it focuses on a young group of teens from a massachusetts town who supposedly made a pact to intentionally get pregnant and raise their babies together. (they seriously should have called me first, i would have explained just how different my belly looks post baby as well as the finer perks of throwing up while 7 months preggo). but they didnt call me and i didnt have the chance to take these girls under my 'you dont want to be knocked up' wing and explain to them with truth in love why there could possibly be a few easier ways to keep in touch with high school friends (if you even remember them post graduation) and bond with the girls. can you say facebook and a spa day? alas, these young mothers now have young babies and for all the speculation and criticism (can you believe the news coverage has everything from hollywood making it look too easy/glamorous to jamie lynn spears having a baby at 17 sharing the blame) i see a potential silver lining in the now infamous story.

i went to a high school with well over 2,000 students. of those 2200 kids, there were 2 girls who had babies, one doing a brave job of raising her little boy while trying to complete her diploma and the other who generously offered up her little one to a young couple unable to have children of their own. the second girl, after making an extremely difficult and brave decision to give her own baby a different life than she could offer, was rewarded for her courage in the way that only high school girls are capable of by calling her a slut and a whore behind her back. rather than honored, she was shamed. rather than being supported, she was ostracized and rather than being respected she was humiliated by her peers. what i know now is that there were lots of pregnancies in that high school, there were just not many births. the stigma of having a child as a teen was far greater than the stigma of having an abortion.

i am a supporter of all life. of the life of the unborn and the life of a woman who is forced to make an unimaginably difficult and painful decision to not have a child. i recognize that for every life taken, there is a life forever changed. there are scars and wounds that never heal within these women who when faced with a choice were in a place where terminating a pregnancy seemed like the best option.

and while im concerned that teen pregnancy is still prevalent (although it is at its lowest rate in a decade) and that there was clearly a lapse in maturity and judgment by these young women, i am simultaneously encouraged that the stigma for having a child amid less than ideal circumstances seems to be making progress. i am not saying we, as a society, should celebrate a group of young teens choosing to get pregnant. what i am saying is that there is at least room for the possibility of a gradual shift in our view of these young girls and subsequent pregnancies. perhaps the tide is changing and we are beginning to alter how we judge the choices of young women facing difficult decisions. and i believe, if only in the smallest and most hopeful spaces of my spirit, theres a chance we are placing a greater value on life than we have in the past. and for that i am encouraged.

and shes honest

2008-07-03T14:05:00.001-04:00

while trying to position a keyboard on my lap to play, georgia, after several attempts at finding the perfect spot said, 'um, mommy, im taking this to papa's lap because your tummys kind of in the way.'

thanks. i hadnt noticed.

someone should have told me...

2008-06-27T13:10:00.000-04:00

one day i will create a list of ALL the things i wish id been told about life in general...but knowing that will be a lengthy ordeal and that today my time is extremely limited (i have a preggo massage appt followed by a highlight courtesy of my babies daddy...it could potentially be the best day of the summer for me) i will keep this focused on one particular issue.

potty training. its done. after putting it off for 5 long months (ive been itching to do this since her 2nd birthday but kept making up somewhat legit excuses to procrastinate this joyous and monumental occasion), gk was apparently ready and after a week of being a 'big girl' has only had 2 accidents. i am thoroughly impressed by her quick transition and consider it a sign that she was in fact really ready to make the switch. and that she is truly the genius her parents have always believed her to be.

what i wish someone would have told me is how, for the love of all things sanitary, do you keep a 2 year old from touching EVERYTHING in a public restroom??? i am pretty even tempered with gk most of the time, trying hard to keep my tone relatively pleasant while firm. however, i have been sent way over the edge every time we enter one of those germ infested hells known as public toilets as i practically beg, threaten and yell at her to please STOP touching...the seat, the tp dispenser, the nasty metal trash cans...the list goes on and on. there has to be a trick or a support group or a manual, something to help with this part of the process.

the most disgusting of incidents occurred as gk was two steps ahead of me entering the nastiest of restrooms and tripped on a small ledge and fell flat on her face...her face. her clean sweet face. of course her little palms were spread out on the sticky floor as well. i could have thrown up right then and there. and then, to top it off, there was no soap dispenser in this place. there should be a law or something about that. anyway...tips are welcome, hand sanitizer donations are appreciated and thanks for feeling my pain.

same question...every 4 years...

2008-06-24T14:51:00.000-04:00

i dont mean to ever bring politics onto my blog and most of you would probably be surprised at how i vote, why i vote and the things that motivate my decisions. but as the election draws nearer, the one thing that remains the same in my mind every 4 years is the question of 'is this really the best we, as a country, have to offer up to lead the free world?' dont misunderstand me, the two in the game at this point are nothing to sneeze at. its just that i am left inspired and simultaneously uncertain. i am hopeful but not sure exactly what for. i am left wondering how a country that has managed to produce the monumental figures in our history as well as current leaders with 10,000 lb brains, always ends up with two people, who while intelligent and experienced in their own right are the only options. i will vote, it is my right and my obligation, but it will not be because i think there are no better candidates. it will be because i am forced to choose between the choices our system has put in place. its sad that such an exciting privilege and opportunity often times leaves me feeling underwhelmed.

cell phones behaving badly

2008-06-23T14:01:00.000-04:00

i love technology. i really do. particularly in the incredibly small doses that i currently have it in my life. i enjoy reading some blogs, shopping and researching online, keeping my ipod up to date and being available by phone 24 hours a day.

the cell phone has to be the greatest invention next to velcro and maybe stretch denim and while my phone (like every other piece of technology in my life) will always remain smarter than i am, with countless features i will never bother to learn, much less use, it is a welcome fixture in my life. and while i may never understand how it really works, i do know that towers are involved, roaming is no longer an issue and they function best if they have not been exposed to water.

water would be what caused the latest malfunction of my cell phone...actually my moms cell phone that was in my care for the weeks leading up to my stateside cell phone purchase...which is now complete if you need my number.

in order to complete the loan paperwork for our home purchase (which is also complete if you need my address) i needed to contact the county courthouse in omaha, nebraska to have a few documents faxed relating to the sale of our last home. sounds simple enough. i realized the morning i needed to make these calls that the phone had been sitting in a wee bit of water all night long, but somehow was still able to dial the necessary numbers and hold the connection long enough for me to make my requests to denise in omaha. simple enough. i hung up, went outside and began a morning of sidewalk chalk and coffee.

an hour later i came inside and heard voices. not the kind youre thinking...i followed the sound to the cell phone which was closed but talking. there was a clearly annoyed voice saying something about 'who IS this??' i picked up the phone to see who had last been called and it was kind denise at the county courthouse. kind denise did not sound particularly kind. i was about to check the rest of the call history when it started ringing again in my hand...not for me to answer, but for someone else being called by the phone in my hand. i tried to hang up, to stop the call, to even turn the phone off, but to no avail. it was denise again sounding thoroughly angry and wanting to again know who was calling. finally, she hung up and i was able to check the call history. oh. my. gawww. there were 97 calls to the courthouse. 97!! as in three shy of 100, which quickly became 2 shy as it again started ringing in my hand. CRAP. i took the battery off the back to avoid call number 98 and began wondering what i should do.

i waited a few minutes before putting the battery back on and turning the possessed phone on. as soon as it was powered up, calls 99 and 100 were placed. clearly i had pushed the courthouse office to a point where someone was probably going to get hurt. i wondered if there was some poor employee who had just gone through a break up and some ex was wrongly being blamed for all the calls or even worse.

so, crazy cell phone was disabled again and we called the provider who graciously removed all the calls from our bill and talked us through ways to trouble shoot the issue. the phone dried out and hasnt caused any problems since.

the next day, denise actually called me and mentioned there had been a problem faxing one of the documents to me the day before. she apologized perfusely for not calling me sooner, but explained they had been having major phone issues the day before. i told her it was perfectly okay and that i completely understood. i was only tempted for a brief moment to disclose my part of the phone issues but quickly decided against it. im still wondering if full disclosure falls into the new truth leaf ive been turning over. im thinking it doesnt. at least not this time.

karma

2008-05-26T12:28:00.000-04:00

im a good truth teller. most of the time. i value honesty, upfrontness, laying it all there so to speak...unless of course it puts me in the position of hurting someones feelings with said honesty. im terrible at that. really really terrible. another exception to my truth saying is when a stranger is involved and my life would be much easier/better/less difficult if i was able to have it my way. i have two examples recently of why the rules of 'always tell the truth' or 'never tell a lie' are generally speaking good rules to live by and more importantly why i need to work these lessons out...

many of you know of my sweet housekeeper, ms. hong. such a great woman with mad laundry skillz (only rivaled by her ability to make one plastic bag wake an entire home of sleeping individuals just by handling it oh so gently). however, before the gloriously clean days of ms. hong, there was a woman named maria. maria was kind, cooked and loved caring for georgia. it was a fabulous arrangement except she continually dried my jeans on high heat (does she have a death wish?? this has been a cardinal sin for the past several years as my denim has been stretched to the max and most jeans are only truly comfortable after air drying and wearing for a day) and the bigger issue would be that my generally happy and social peach cried every time she arrived. as in screamed and begged through tears to not be left with maria. this would be a red flag to anyone with a pulse and i, not being a total moron made the decision to find a replacement for maria. i know she never hurt georgia, trust me, this child would have told me, shown me and reminded me of it for weeks, but it only took her a couple of weeks to associate marias arrival with a day away from me. i also noticed that maria tended to scurry like a mouse from room to room and while i found it strange, gk found it scary, constantly asking 'what she doin?' while climbing up to the safety of my lap. so there was an obvious personality conflict between my nanny and my child...clearly a good enough reason for her dismissal. but how do you tell a woman who only speaks moderately good english and happens to love your child (or at least pretends really well) that your kid hates her?? i opted for the 'you dont' option. rather, i explained to her that i would be leaving the country in a few weeks and that my mother would be flying over to help me in the meantime as i prepared for my move.

i rarely gave maria another thought. she understood completely and a couple of weeks later when i ran into her on the elevator caring for someone elses child, i happen to be with a friend who looks much older than i....so, i introduced maria to my mother. i know. shady. shameful and gutless. but, nobodys feelings were hurt right? except maybe the friend that i just passed off as my mother.

fast forward eight months to last saturday. that would be the day i was waiting in seoul to begin my 30 hour voyage back to the mother ship. the airport is a solid two hours from the base and is a huge place, constantly busy. after checking in we found the closest row of seats to hang out as a family before saying our good byes. no sooner had i sat down than i noticed the woman sitting right next to me. let me just say there are no more than 5 koreans i would recognize in a crowd of thousands...but in an instant i knew i was sitting next to maria. the kind woman who had to be fired because i was leaving the country...eight months ago. this is karma. this is God using the universe to teach me a lesson about truth. she was so happy and surprised (understandably so) to see all of us that amid hugs, questions and well wishes she never bothered to ask the most obvious and uncomfortable question. and i, valuing upfrontness, never bothered to volunteer the answer.

the other moment in recent weeks occurred while i attempted to de-register the car in korea. it is a process requiring 12 different documents, a navigation system to find it (its in the basement of a stadium...unmarked) and apparently a bucket of patience that i sometimes forget to take with me. i decided i would handle this part of the move so that busy pat would not have to and since he happens to be handling the movers, i felt like this was more than fair.

i set out with my directions and documents in hand to find this elusive place i had been told about. what should be a 30 minute drive was over an hour as i tested out several roads trying to run into the stadium. when i did find it, i was reminded that in honor of sweet buddhas special birthday, the office was closed. fabulous.

the next day my trip was only 40 minutes thanks to the practice run the day before. i placed gk on the couch with a snack and managed to wait in line with a smile until i was called. i happily found my way to the counter, produced all 12 documents and waited for the 'okay'. she asked if i had pats power of attorney since the car was registered in his name. um no. i showed her where my name appeared on the title, on the insurance, on the stateside registration, on my military id...pretty much everywhere but the korean registration. frustrated, desperate and trying to figure out how and when georgia got black mystery dirt on her face while eating snacks on the couch i began to plead with her that she allow me, the wife to handle this matter. she wasnt budging. now we are 3 days from leaving the pen and im remembering the mountain of work that i still need to get done and realizing that a third trip to this place just isnt in the cards. desperate, i blurt out that my husband, the one who registered the car, has already left the country, is stateside and all of our goods are packed, to include the power of attorney. i know. im going to hell or at the minimum truth purgatory. she looked at me, looked at my dirty child and said 'have him unpack it and fax it here'. that was it.

defeated, i left. pat decided to take care of it the next day and only asked that i accompany him so he wouldnt get lost. fine. we arrived, miraculously with husband who had already left the country and took care of it amid deserved looks of judgment at my dishonest ways by the lady who had stood her ground and told me no...in spite of my imagined desperate circumstances.

in a book i read a few months ago, eat, pray, love, the author writes simply what she has learned...always tell the truth. i think she may be onto something. so watch out...a new leaf is being turned over within me with just a little help from the universe.

s.k.i. #7

2008-04-10T01:26:00.001-04:00

i have figured im averaging about one strange korean incident a month these days and ive decided thats pretty infrequent considering how bizarre this little country can be. recently, i decided to head to seoul for the day to have my hair cut and highlighted. i should confess that as nervous as i am about all that can be lost in translation, the one that scares me the most is the horror that could result from a bad salon experience. it could come out 10 different shades of scary and then where would i be? thousands of miles away from an aveda salon with a man named pedro dressed in black and willing to work his gay magic on my disastrous do.

however, desperate regrowth calls for desperate measures and with that mantra playing in my 2 inch roots, i went forward to a place americanly named 'clippers'. take everything you think of an american salon and toss it. make it louder, busier, more crowded with a slight smell of kimchee mixed with hair color and youre beginning to get the feel of a korean salon. there were so many people working in there, i felt like a giant trying to avoid an ant farm or a moped trying to navigate my way through targets parking lot the day after thanksgiving. the trick is to find the one korean who speaks english which requires a keen sense of listening because everyone is shouting in korean and occasionally an individual will transition instantly from shouting in korean to asking you what you need. if youre not ready for the transition, you end up looking like the idiot who not only lacks an understanding of the korean language, but cant seem to understand english either. ah yes.

i arrived at the scene, located the one who looked most capable of assisting me and was asked a series of questions that i cannot remember and did not understand. what i did figure out after some hand holding, nail pointing and foot gesturing is that i was being offered a manicure and pedicure as well. this was looking up. i was about to make the most of my time without my peach attachment and indulge in a relaxing manicure and pedicure as well. how nice. so there was no cucumber water or tea being offered, so i felt like a stuffed animal being sent through a high speed build a bear, but i was going for the works and i was only moderately afraid.

it became perfectly clear in an instant why there were an insane amount of workers there...i had a korean or two on every limb. not exaggerating, there were at least 10 petite women all working on me at the same time. two at my hair dissecting, discussing, foiling, painting, more discussing. two on each foot rubbing, polishing, picking and the same on my hands. it was about as relaxing as trying to make a connection in the airport with 27 minutes between flights and a change from terminal A to terminal F. where was my tea? how i miss pedro.

the good news is the end result was the same at a fraction of the cost. sure, i could have used a cocktail on my way out to take the edge off, but the hair is the right color, the nails are the right shape and my piggies are fresh and ready for spring.

one last observation, all 236 workers had american first names on their name tags before their korean last name. and while i really appreciated it when it came time to track all 10 of them down for tip time, i realized how stupid they must think we are that we cant even remember or pronounce their given name. i felt dumb and ethnocentric for a moment before i realized that it was the name recognition of maria, lynn, lisa, kelly, amber, suzy, sara, amy, heidi, brooke & carol that ensured i remembered to tip them. there is no way i would have remembered all the korean names. so, maybe im not that dumb and theyre willing to change their names for the day to get tipped every time.

my own fault

2008-03-30T03:13:00.000-04:00

right now my stomach is doing the wave and it is not baby induced. this afternoon i thought a perfect meal would be a handful of feta stuffed olives, two large dill pickle spears and enough peanut butter cups to create the illusion of a peanut butter cup wrapper snow storm in my immediate area. why i did this to myself i do not know. they each sounded worthy of consumption on their own, however, the combination is doing me in. yep. all my fault. no sympathy necessary. ive been wondering what beverage i could chase this all down with but strangely nothing sounds even slightly appetizing. margaritas are always great, but not really an option. ugh.

s.k.i. #6?...grouchy baby...

2008-03-26T03:04:00.000-04:00

i will keep this brief as my body is just as tickled about being preggo this time around as last. while there are no recent tears to the esophagus from constant upchucking like last time resulting in the throwing up of blood, i continue to feel like im experiencing the worst hangover of my life most hours of the day.

i am actually feeling a bit better as of late and am beginning to believe there are better days ahead. however, before those better days arrive, i need to get over a slight case of pneumonia. now would be a good time to mention i was not an easy teen, i did stupid things and put my amazing parents through a lot. i admit this only to point to the possible reason as to why at this exact moment in time i know im being punished for bad behavior in my past. i know, i know, God doesnt roll like that, but seriously there is truth to karma and im getting mine.

after two weeks of wandering around like i had the black lung and alternating between throwing up frosted flakes and buckets of flem (arent you happy youre reading this now?) i swallowed my pride, got dressed and took myself to the emergency room. this is one of my most favorite places to go as its always a mystery what illness you have and of course what illness you will catch in the waiting room. after 74 minutes of my life that i will never get back, dr. tang (a nice korean man who has taken the time to barely learn english) emerges straight from the depths of the break room...i smelled coffee and donuts on this guy. he proceeds to tell me i have a 'bad cough' and 'maybe pneumonia...but we not know because im pregnant so no x-rayey'. great. i ask what i can possibly take that will help the hacking and maybe even help me sleep. he mentions something to me about being a 'superhero' (really, you know this word, but cant pronounce x-ray correctly?) and tells me tylenol and vitamins should help. REALLY?? i hadnt thought of that. hmm, that would be great if i had a headache and was able to even look at my vitamins without inducing a significant gag reflex. i plead with him for something else and he tells me if in a week i just cant take it anymore (at which time ill be leaning longingly over my balcony) i can come back and they can give me tylenol with codine. i ask why i cant have it today and this was his reply...'i could give you codine, but no takey because it make for grouchy baby'. GROUCHY BABY?? as in the 3 inches of baby i have in utero? will it take its little forming limbs and being beating the crap out of me? or are we talking a grouchy baby for life after birth? what exactly do you mean by this, dr. tang? and did you go to medical school online? and why do you hate me? and could you spare a cup of coffee and a few donuts if i cant have the codine?

im realizing that the shopping and my housekeeper will be the only things i miss about this place. and of course my friends, but theyre all leaving too, so whatever. oh, and before i had to taste it twice, the thai food. thats all. i promise my next post will be more chipper.

im alive

2008-02-26T23:51:00.001-05:00

so im still here, still breathing (although the smell of korea is beginning to take its toll) and still full of random thoughts and korean incidents and i have a really great excuse to explain away my absence. however, you will have to wait just a bit longer...i promise not another month, but maybe just one more day and then i will begin the laborious task of unraveling the last month on this little blog of mine. thanks for understanding and still bothering to check in...i never intended to take this long of a break. at least im not as bad as this guy who is on a much longer hiatus and is withholding far more insightful thoughts.

much two fast

2008-01-24T23:36:00.000-05:00

thats how i feel time is travelling in relation to our peach who is two today. that makes it 2 years, 24 months, 104 weeks, 728 days and 17, 472 hours since i fell madly, wholly and deeply in love. it was magical and unexpected, overwhelming and yet comforting, natural and beautiful and in an instant different. different than anything i had ever known or hoped to know.

the world became brighter, louder, funnier, clearer and surprisingly easier. in a moment i found my purpose in the privilege and awesome calling of motherhood and with it came a peace and contentment that were all consuming. i didnt say easy, i said all consuming. but, regardless of the moment, the day or the hour when i have felt weakest, i have never questioned this profound purpose for my life. i dont deserve this gift of motherhood, it is lavish in its magnitude. it is great in its extent and it is with that generous gift from God that i, with her father continue to try and nurture and grow her full time to be the child that one day may find her own purpose in His divine plan.

i gave up bikinis and gained belly laughs. i traded in some sleep for late night chats, prayers and gazes just between us. i once thought the three greatest inventions were stretch denim, flavored creamers and the push up bra...i now know them to be color wonder markers, sound machines and mylecon drops. i said farewell to the idea of a career and took immeasurable joy in being there for all of georgias firsts, seconds, thirds and hundredths. i traded sushi dinners for a 4 course cheese dinner with a very entertaining date. and what i find really amazing is that it doesnt seem to matter what is asked of me, what is demanded of me, or what is required to best nurture, teach and train this little one, i am somehow willing and able to give more than i thought i had.

there is irony at every turn in this adventure, the greatest being that as i desperately try and instill in her attributes of grace, compassion, love, kindness, generosity, hope, courage and faith, i am challenged to live these out as well. through God, i am trying to mold her in His image and yet through her, God is gradually molding me. and i am grateful. and inspired. and encouraged. that, He in His goodness, in His lavish love for us, entrusted this child, His creation to be ours.

and two years somehow flew by and i feel like im hanging onto the coat tails of time, begging it to please slow down, willing it to stand still. to please just give us more time. more time for the laughter, for the love, for the joy of it all. and while we keep chasing time for another day, another week, another month and another year, i know we will be laughing, loving and enjoying every moment of it.

happy 2nd birthday, georgia. you have made the gift of time the greatest gift of all. we love you so.

s.k.i. #5

2008-01-19T23:35:00.000-05:00

for the past several months i have noticed a number of interesting things here that have raised questions in my mind that i dont have any clear answers to. recently i learned that the blue line on the highway indicated a bus lane (for use only on the weekends) rather than just a splash of something interesting on the otherwise dull pavement with the standard white lines. i have figured out that the constant shoving is due not to a mentality of rudeness, but rather a cultural norm stemming from what i assume to be no korean phrase for 'excuse me'.

there are things i will never figure out...like the use of cartoon characters on all advertisements, not just childrens, perhaps appealing to the child in all of us. the flow of driving is another elusive thing. while it is perfectly okay to run a red light, you had better not turn right on red. interestingly enough, it is kind of fun to pause and go at a red light even though it is illegal knowing that if you decided to stop at the light you would most certainly be mercilessly honked at and berated in words you cannot understand until you ran the red light.

i have managed to crack the code on at least one koreanism this week...

there are 10 digit phone numbers on almost all cars, not used for commercial use, but personal cars. not kimchee delivery, not carpet and tile sales, but regular old cars. they all have them and there are several methods of posting the number, applied stickers to the windshield is fairly popular as is the embroidered pillow with the number on it on display in the front or back windshield. i have been thoroughly confused as to why anyone would have their number so blatantly advertised on their vehicle. until this week. this week, while friends were out shopping, they returned to their car to find it completely blocked in. not a tight squeeze, not a 'please help direct me out of this', not a suck it in or climb in through the other door, but a no kidding, we are not leaving until little white daewoo moves out of the way. aha. call that number!! so, they called the number and daewoo driver emerged from a nearby building to move his car out of the way.

isnt that crazy? that you have a number put on your windshield or have a pillow embroidered with the sole purpose of parking in a way that makes it impossible for the other people to leave?? i started thinking of all the places they could be called out of just to move their car....weddings, funerals, classes, work....the list goes on and on. this is such a bizarre place. and yet somewhat endearing that they, knowing that blocking you in is a certain in their future, at least make themselves available to let you out.

a little spoiled and a little lazy

2008-01-13T23:15:00.000-05:00

very rarely am i honest enough with myself that i would admit either of these things, but this morning, over coffee, i had a frank and honest discussion with none other than myself. and before you try and have me taking the same little magic pills that you are, just know it was a healthy chat. self was feeling very blunt and self was willing to accept a few truths (they were conveyed mostly in love).

i was thinking of what i love most about korea and while i would love to say that it has been the invaluable cultural experience that only comes from living in a foreign country, that it has been an enlightening experience that i just cannot imagine having lived my life without, that im considering pursuing a life led in service to the less fortunate as a result and that i plan on donating all that i own to worthy causes like greenpeace and the celebrity chihuahua rescue foundation, that wouldnt exactly be true. now, this has been a fantastic opportunity, one that i am thankful for, one that has taught me more than simply holding my breath for long periods of time to avoid smells and to exercise great self control when seeing stray animals (they really do not need me to bring them home), it has also grown my appreciation for all things asian.

i love the korean people and their love of my offspring. i love the food, the shopping, the near death experiences i live through every time i get in a car, the novelty of marking all directions with milestones instead of streets. i love the apartment living that reminds me so much of college with the upgrade of better furniture, better drinks and no classes to sleep through. and the people, well, just dont get me started, because i have certainly met some quality people here.

so, i was thinking of all the things i love about my korean lifestyle (which is really led mostly like an american, but still...) and i began to think of what i will miss most. while there are several things vying for number 2 on the list...living arrangement, friends, purses, travel, etc, there is only one thing worthy of the number 1 position. her name is ms. hong and i love her. and while she has made me feel a little spoiled and a little lazy, she also makes me feel rested and available on the weekends for that treasured family time. she is referred to as an "ojima" and although i hired a housekeeper in rapid city (many of you remember crazy sharon stories) to help out and while she was a good helper, she was no ms. hong.

i havent done laundry in over 2 months. im not kidding. i havent ironed since i moved here and i cant for the life of me find a place to leave my initials in the dust. shes kind, she works hard and georgia loves her. there is a small part of me, who after hearing stories of families that moved their ogimas back to the states with them, wants to find a house with a separate living area for sweet ms. hong (itd have to be very separate with not even shared ventilation because that kimchee smell is the kind you want to leave at the restaruant, not scent your home with.)

so while i may be a little spoiled and a little lazy, with ms. hongs help, i am also happier, more relaxed and thankful that my time in korea is going so swimmingly. and i will miss her. a lot. and after chatting with myself, its not all for self serving reasons either (i swear). i love the korean she speaks to georgia, i look forward to her arrival at our home and i will miss her kindness that she shows me in broken english and sweet eyes. my time here will be marked with many things, but the highlight may just be my time spent with ms. hong....and my red jimmy choo.